


The XXX Files

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series: Tales of the Mountie Slayer, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-26
Updated: 2000-03-26
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Mulder and ScullyThe return of IreneThis story is a sequel toSuburban Legend.





	The XXX Files

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "The XXX Files"
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes
    Pairings: SRK/BF, RV/SRKpbIZ, RV/SK, RV/IZ, D/Mag, T/F
    Disclaimers: DS belongs to Alliance.
    Series: Mountie Slayer: Gehenna
    Rating: R
    
    -----
    
    It was almost as if the elements had bent to the Inspector's will with
    an  unseasonably warm stretch of days and nights to accomidate her coven's
    Beltane picnic.  
    
    Ray Kowalski leaned back against the door of the Riv, and enjoyed the
    sunshine for as long as he could before Fraser came along and made him
    put more sunblock on his face. Then the sun finally went down and Fraser
    stopped smearing it on him. Not that he minded, really.  He was  getting
    increasingly sensitive to light since he'd been poisoned by Calhoun this
    past winter.   
    Dief tore past him, excited by the scent of cooking food and white-dressed
    children dancing around the May pole.  Ray watched the bare-footed little
    werewolf affectionately.  His son, as it were.	At least they looked alike.
    Of course, Ray's hair was purple, but their faces were close enough to
    pass  as father and hyperactive, ravenous son. 
     
    He turned as another vehicle arrived: Jay McGet in the ultimate land
    yacht,  a '70 Chevy Impala.  Ray smiled, pushing himself off the Riv.
    That car had  enough trunk space to rent out as low-income housing. 
    Right now, it was  full of vampires and Slayers, all of them singing
    some really awful country-western song that Turnbull loved.  
    As Jay docked the Impala, another classic car pulled into the park's
    lot, a  Mustang convertable in a red so bright it blinded Ray even through
    his	sunglasses.  He saw Jay almost give himself whiplash to gape at the
    old  Ford.  The get had a passion for antique cars - a fact which kept
    both Ray  Kowalski and Ray Vecchio very nervous - especially ones named
    after animals  and it looked as if his love affair with the Chevy was
    over and he was	converting to the Church of Ford. 
     
    A dignified older man with a young blond goddess exited the Mustang,
    immediately heading up the path to the picnic area.  Benton Fraser joined
    Ray, commenting, "That's Sir Edward Fleming-Smith, High Priest of Inspector
    Thatcher's coven."  
    "That Mountie for you sayin' the man should find his Mustang in the same
    condition  he left it in?" 
     
    The Slayer smoothed his eyebrow and said, "Yes, that would make my life
    substancially easier, Ray." 
     
    "Gotcha.  Hey, Jay!" 
     
    "Yes, Elder?" 
     
    "Tool kit.  Now." 
     
    "But-" 
     
    "Now." 
     
    "I..." 
     
    "And the screwdriver." 
     
    The rest of the group grinned as the Asian youth reluctantly handed over
    all  his tools.  Ray turned to Diefenbaker where the boy was hugging
    Mina and  Lucia at once. 
     
    "Yo, Dief!  C'mere, boy!  Hide Jay's tools, Dief.  Don't let him find
    them  no matter what he says or does.  We're trying to save an endangered
    species  from the crazed mechanic."  Ray spoke discreetly to the werechild
    so that, in  his deafness, he could understand. 
     
    "Thank you, Ray." 
     
    "Don't touch that car, Jay," the detective warned one last time.  
    
    "Where is Ray?" 
     
    "He went to find the Ice Queen.  Brave man." 
     
    "Now, Ray." 
     
    "C'mon, kids, let's eat!" called Kowalski, dragging Jay away from the
    parking lot. 
     
    *** 
    
    Milkduds. Boxes of them. Empty. A tool kit sitting open by the sidewalk.
    An engine on the parking lot. Car parts everywhere. Fraser turning as
    pale as he possibly could, Thatcher screaming at him. 
    
    These were the images that assailed Ray, the images that made his pulse
    race in terror of the Wicca Inspector. It was close to midnight and Kowalski,
    Jay, and Fraser had spent the past five hours rebuilding a Mustang. 
    He was exhausted and hungry and he was going to kill Jay.  After he killed
    Diefenbaker.  
    Fraser likewise was none too pleased with the weak-willed werewolf. 
    "You'd  be a disgrace to your breed if you had one." 
     
    Jay bit his lip and tried to vanish into the shadows.  He hadn't been
    a  vampire long enough to master such a skill, yet, and so had to suffer
    the  double displeasure of Elder and Slayer. 
     
    "Don't yell at Dief," he muttered.  "It was my fault.  I couldn't resist."
    
    "Addicted to cars.  Geeze.  There's got to ba a twelve-step program for
    you  out there, Jay." 
     
    Jay winced and said not another word until he was dropped off at his
    home.   Lucia had driven Turnbull and Mina home earlier and Jay could
    pick up that  boat on wheels tomorrow.  Ray leaned back in his seat beside
    Fraser as Dief  scrambled up beside Vecchio to ride shotgun.  The Mountie
    looked at him with  bright, amused eyes and suddenly Ray couldn't contain
    himself any longer and  just laughed.  Fraser joined in, then Vecchio.
    
    "Betcha she makes ya stand guard duty til Thanksgiving." 
     
    "That would be a relief at this point.	I quite dread Monday." 
     
    They arrived at the Vecchio house where Kowalski's GTO was parked.  Dief,
    who could open the doors in the GTO by now but not the Riv, whined at
    Fraser. 
     
    "What's up?" wondered Vecchio. 
     
    "He would like to visit your mother, Ray." 
     
    "Take 'em on in, Benny.  Always welcome here." 
     
    "Come, Dief, lets go pay our regards to Mrs. Vecchio.  No snacks.  You
    ate  enough today.  Ray?" 
     
    "I'm good, Frase.  I'll stay out here a minute." 
     
    Kowalski sighed, still seated in the back of the car, trying to muster
    the  energy to move.  He barely felt it as the ever-present Irene gracefully
    brushed her ghostly hand against his cheek and stepped in his mind. 
    In the  past few months, she had grown fond of this young man, the only
    living	person she could communicate with.  She'd thought to just to calm
    him down,  help him relax and perhaps find the strength he sought. Until
    she saw HIM.  
    Her Ray. Vecchio. And her heart - Ray's heart - fluttered. 
     
    Unsuspecting, the detective stretched in his seat in a prelude to standing,
    wondering if Stan had nodded off.  He went to adjust the rear-view mirror
    and true to form it came loose in his hand.  What was it with these things?
    
    "Hey, Sta-" 
     
    "Ray." 
     
    He froze, green eyes wide and afraid to look.  Irene.  Her voice. His
    hands were shaking.  
    "Ray." 
     
    //Don't look.  You can't be hurt if -// 
     
    He looked. 
     
    Irene sat in the back seat of the Riv, her clear eyes shining with love,
    a  soft smile playing on her lips.  Vecchio stared, speechless and stunned
    as  she reached for him, her slim body leaning forward.  He could /feel/
    her,  the heat of her body, the hand on his arm. 
     
    //Oh, God, she's real.// 
     
    "Irene," he breathed as she held his face in both hands, pulling him
    towards  her.  Vecchio scrambled over the seat to follow, his mind full
    of questions  he could not voice, his heart singing at the sight, the
    touch, of Irene  Zukko.	The truest love he had ever known. 
     
    "God, I love you," he breathed in quiet awe. 
     
    She traced her fingers down his cheek, brushed away a tear, then pulled
    him  into a kiss.  Loving and gentle at first, the kiss soon turned hungry,
    desperate.  He felt Irene wrap her arms around him, pressing her body
    closer, pulling him closer.  He wanted her.  Wanted to devour her, never
    lose her again even if he didn't understand how she came to be here.
    He  would never question such a gift as Irene's hand on his neck, the
    feel of  her open lips and mouth against his, her tongue- 
     
    He drew back to look at her.  She smiled, joy clear on her features.
    
    "Oh, God, Irene, I miss you." 
     
    "I'm always with you, Ray," she whispered, pulling him down for another
    kiss  that made the first pale by comparison. They lay back, face to
    face in the back seat of the Riv. He reached up, touching her face gently.
    
    He pulled her down, kissing her quickly. Deeply. She moaned at the feel
    of his hands on her shoulders. Every touch was good, every touch brought
    her some sort of pleasure. 
    
    He arched up as she nipped at his neck and directly behind his ear. "Ray..."
    She smiled, happily. 
    
    "Love you..."
     
    *** 
     
    "Thank you kindly, Mrs. Vecchio.  No, really, we can't take any more
    lasagna.  This will feed us for a week.  Thank you." 
     
    Fraser balanced the bag in his hands and leaned over to bestow a kiss
    on the  old lady's cheek.  Only one bag of cooking.  He was getting off
    lightly.  
    "Come, Dief, Ray must be talking to Ray still." 
     
    "I'll walk with ya, Fraser." 
     
    "Ah, thank you, Francesca, your company would be most welcome. The GTO
    is  on the street by the Durso's, I belive." 
     
    Dief whined. 
     
    "How can you be hungry?  And where...is...Ray?" 
     
    Francesca blinked at this uncharacteristc pause.  She turned, following
    Fraser's gaze to - 
     
    The Riv. 
    
    Frannie's scream pierced the night, almost a shriek of bloody murder.
    She  nearly deafened the Mountie standing next to her as he dropped the
    bag of  food. He could feel his whole world swirling around him, his
    heart pounding  in his ears. "No." His voice was a hoarse whisper as
    they stood there  watching the scene before them. 
     
    Ray and Vecchio in the back of the Riv. Practically trying to devour
    each other. Fraser took the three large steps towards the Buick, then
    banged  on the window as he heard the neighbors shouting. 
     
    His Ray looked up, staring out at him, uncomprehending, even as Vecchio
    tensed at the interruption. His breathing was hitched and uneven. In
    that one startling instant, Fraser knew this was /not/ his Ray in control
    right now. He saw a tiny flash in Ray's eyes. Irene?  Suddenly Ray was
    trembling, his body seizing. Vecchio opened his  eyes, pulling back in
    shock. 
     
    "Irene? Irene..." He called out, looking around. Barely noticed the 
    convulsing man on top of him. Until blood hit him in the face. "Stan..."
    His confusion was evident. 
     
    Frannie clapped a hand over her mouth, revealing nothing but huge brown
    eyes.  What would they tell Ma? 
     
    Vecchio, his thoughts scattered, tried to scramble out from beneath Stan
    in  the suddenly cramped space as a scream escaped his fellow detective.
    
    He couldn't blame him. He wanted to scream himself. 
     
    Kowalski convulsed as the flash came.  It was a scene he had seen a dozen
    times - the Riv exploding, Fraser running. Gardino had tried to warn
    them  the only way he could with Irene...otherwise occupied. 
     
    Fraser yanked the door open and pulled the seat forward, trying to get
    Kowalski out before he hurt himself or Vecchio with his thrashing.  Frannie
    helped as best she could, Dief guarded the food. 
     
    They finally wrestled Ray out of the back seat and Fraser carried him
    to the  front porch of the house.  Vecchio, his face smeared with the
    ghoulite's  blood, followed slowly with his sister.  He was stunned and
    couldn't bear to  meet Fraser's eyes.  
    
    After all he had said about Stan in the past, to end up deliberately
    making out with him in the back seat of his own car...ugh.  He didn't
    want to face the pain and hurt he knew he'd caused the Mountie. Fraser
    didn't deserve to be hurt that way.  Hell, neither did Stanley.  
    Frannie was talking a mile a minute.  All he caught was, "...did you
    think  you were doing back there, bro?" 
     
    It was so hard to say, but Fraser and Stan deserved an answer.	He gazed
    shame-faced at the man Fraser cradled and finally said, 
     
    "It was Irene." 
     
    Ray's voice was tense, his teeth gritted tight from both pain and anger.
    "Do. I. Look. Like. Irene?" 
     
    Vecchio shook his head, shocked that he could have done such a thing.
    Exhaustion. It had to be. Or stress. Or Stella. Something. "I..." 
     
    "Ray..." Irene stood at the door of the Riv, looking down at her shoes
    and  gnawing on her lower lip in a charming display of guilt. Kowalski's
    gaze  went to her and with one look he knew that Vecchio was telling
    the truth.  She cast him a quick look, then stammered, "I'm sorry. I
    just..."  
    "You just what?" Ray snapped. He didn't mind the flashes.  Well, not
    as  much. Body jumping was over the line. Not forgivable. At least not
    right  away. He felt Fraser's grip on his shoulders tighten and wiped
    the blood  from his nose with his sleeve. 
     
    Fraser curled his nose in distaste. "Ray." He looked where his love was
    staring and froze. "She's there? It was her?" 
     
    "I forgot myself. I miss him so much. I'm sorry, Ray -" 
     
    Kowalski blinked, staring at her in growing surprise.  "No, you're not."
    
    Guiltier and guiltier she looked.  "Oh, Ray, it felt so wonderful to
    touch  him again. I'm sorry to hurt you, you've been a good friend."
    
    He sighed, exhausted and sore. "It's okay, Irene.  Just...no more." 
    
    "Thank you, Ray." 
     
    "Yeah."  He lifted his head.  It felt ready to explode.  "Frase?  Can
    we  please go somewhere where there's no dead people running around?"
    
    "Home?" 
     
    "I'll even let you drive." 
     
    Vecchio didn't even offer to help settle Ray into the front seat of the
    GTO.    He lingered in the driveway, confused and lonely, a renewed aching
    in his  breast at that moment of passion.  It /had/ been Irene.  She
    loved him	still.   How could he even consider a relationship with someone
    as cold as  Stella when love such as what he felt for Irene still dwelt
    in him?  
    The door of the GTO closed and Ray waited to hear the engine start up
    and  for his best friend to leave him here alone in the chilly night.
    He  underestimated Fraser, though. Not for the first time.  When he looked
    up,  the Mountie, complete with Stetson, was standing in front of him
    with  concern reflecting in his eyes. 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    "Listen Benny, I'm sorry," he began, and then words tumbled out of his
    mouth.	"I heard her voice, saw her, I...since Stan said he could see
    her  I've been so damned jealous of him and I know you two are in love
    but she  meant everything in the world to me and know she's always right
    here but it  hurts so bad not being the one who can-" 
     
    "Ray." 
     
    He stopped, afraid of what he might see in that handsome face.	What he
    got  was the last thing he expected. 
     
    Fraser reached up and put his hand on the Italian's shoulder. He smiled
    gently at his friend. 
     
    "It's all right, Ray. Really." 
     
    "...really...?"  He couldn't quite believe his ears.  Forgiveness? Not
    even, since Fraser clearly wasn't here to cast blame. 
     
    "Really." 
     
    "What about Stan?" 
     
    "He should be laughing about it by noon tomorrow.  Will I see you at
    the  precinct Monday?" 
     
    Slowly, Vecchio grinned. "I'll be there." 
     
    "Good.	Good night, Ray.  Please give my regards to your mother and  Francesca."
    
    "Will do, Benny." 
    
    ***
     
    Ray followed Fraser into the apartment carrying a half asleep Dief and
    setting him on the couch. He made his way to their answering machine,
    pressing the button despondently. He felt sorry for Irene, knew what
    it was  like to be apart from someone you loved for so long. He wished
    that he  could help her, wanted to help her. 
     
    But he didn't know how, other than what she'd tried and he was NOT eager
    to  repeat that performance, especially with Vecchio. He couldn't really
    remember anything from the time they arrived at the Vecchio house to
    looking up into Fraser's shocked face. That's what disturbed him the
    most -  the total supression of himself.  Maybe Caine had some idea.
    He seemed to  know everything else. 
     
    No messages. He tried hard to ignore Fraser's looks of concern, and picked
    up his phone when it rang.  "Kowalski." 
     
    "He wants to see you," Zukko muttered, sounding pissed as hell. 
     
    "Who?" 
     
    "Who do you think?" 
     
    Ray sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I just got home..."
    
    "The bunker's been opened." 
     
    He looked over at Fraser, trying not to betray his shock.  "Ok. I'm on
    my  way." 
     
    He hung up the phone and put it on the counter, trying to figure out
    how to  phrase this. He finally lifted his gaze to the Mountie.  "That
    was Zukko.   Caine wants to see me. She's escaped." 
     
    "Ray, you're exhausted." 
     
    Typical Fraser.  Worried about Ray taking a nap while the whole world
    was  being threatened by an unhinged vampire from the dawn of time. 
     
    "I gotta go. I gotta hear what they have to say." 
     
    "I'll take you." 
     
    "Thanks." 
     
    *** 
     
    "So what happened?" 
     
    They were seated at that mahogany table again, Ray, Caine, Zukko, Warfield,
    and a few other Elders from other clans he couldn't name but were trusted
    by  Caine.	Ray was nursing a cup of coffee and trying his best to keep
    his mind  on the topic.  They would not allow Fraser into the room. 
    Not all clans  were as tolerent as the Giovanni and Fraser's title and
    presence were  affronts to them.  They had much less trouble with the
    Chicago Knight that  was an Elder and unwilling prince, especially now
    that his hair didn't turn  annoy their senses. 
    
    "Sattelite photos showed ten to twenty cold heat beings converging on
    the bunker. Satelite's a relic from the cold war. Designed to track vampirs.
    One vampire  we recognised. Calhoun."  Zukko looked up from the radar
    photos. 
    
    "Calhoun." Ray looked up, blearily, not about to question how they got
    the  satellite photos.  He didn't want to know. "I thought he was dead."
    Hoped  and prayed was more like it. "Well....more than normal."
    
    "Merely wounded," Caine said, softly. "It takes a lot to kill the Sabbat.
    Unfortunately." 
    
    Ray shook his head, still shaken by the night's events. "Why would he
    want Lilith?" 
    
    "Perhaps she called on him. As she did you."
    
    Ray stared at Caine, open mouthed. "What?"
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun knelt beside the barely conscious Lilith. She had been like this
    for days, completing her Hag's Wrinkles spell, a spell that could change
    the appearance of a vampire so that no one, not even Caine, would recognise
    her. "Mother.." He sat, smiling. He was still Autarkis to her, to all,
    but a favored one. "What is your bidding?" 
    
    "The wolf. Find him." 
    
    He nodded and bowed to her before he left.  He didn't question her motives,
    too relieved to be back in her good graces to jepordize his position
    with  anything as commonplace as curiosity. 
     
    Lilith smiled, pleased and amused that the Autarkis brought with him
    a	formidable following.  The Sabbat could go places her other children
    could  not, and the bastard tribe was bound by no laws.  Calhoun had
    been ruthless  as a Gangrel.  As a Sabbat under her direction he would
    be a force to be reckoned with.  And reckon they would. With the ghoulite
    Kowalski under her sway, Caine was doomed.  
    *** 
     
    "But I thought she kicked his butt out!" 
     
    "And so she did.  And now look at what she has at her disposal: A Sabbat
    elder." 
     
    Began the detective, "He's got a clan..." 
     
    "Lilith has a clan," corrected Zuko unhappily. "Several in fact. The
    Bahari. The Daughters of Cacophony. And now the Gangrel Antitribu, The
    Lassombra and the Tzimice"  
    Ray slumped in his seat.  In theory, this was supposed to have been a
    good  day.  Between Jay, the unfortunate Mustang, the Ice Queen, being
    posessed,  making out with Vecchio (Vecchio!  Ugh!), and now finding
    out the psycho  bitch from hell was back on the warpath, his weekend
    was shot to hell.  
    Christ, he needed a vacation. 
     
    "What can we do?" 
     
    Said Caine, "Wait for a sign." 
     
    Ray sighed.  "You guys ever hear of bein' pro-active versus reactive?"
    
    Caine smiled at his youngest son.  "We are, child." 
     
    "How's that?" 
     
    "We have you, don't we?" 
     
    Ray shut up.  He really didn't want to be here. He wanted to go home
    and go  to sleep with Fraser's arms around him.  He sighed again. 
     
    "You are exhausted," stated Caine, concerned.  "We will not delay you
    much  longer.  Be warned, my children," he addressed the assembly.  "The
    dark  mother has worn many faces and names in the past.  She will change
    her form  again to hide herself anew.  Alert your people.  Tell them
    to be wary of  strangers and friends alike until we know her form.  Until
    then, we are all  vulnreable."  The ancient vampire rose.  "Prince Kowalski,
    would you walk  with me?" 
     
    *** 
     
    "You seem troubled." 
     
    "Off the scale bad day." 
     
    "Beyond the day." 
     
    "Too much weirdness lately." 
     
    "You have been thrust rudely into this twilight." 
     
    Ray paused in their pacing the hall to remove his glasses and rub his
    eyes,  careful to keep them closed the whole time.  It actually helped
    a bit.  "I'm just confused.  It's hard enough just working.  Now all
    this crap lately..."  
    "Do you regret this change?" 
     
    "The change?  Yeah.  The end results?  No.  Not by a long shot.  That
    would  mean regretting Fraser." 
     
    "And sorry is the man who regrets having a soul." 
     
    "'Specially one that smiles like he does." 
     
    Caine reached out and placed his hand on Ray's shoulder.  "Be careful
    in  your world.  Know that you are beloved of your father." 
     
    Kowalski smiled sadly at the irony, squinting, wishing to see Caine with
    his own eyes despite the discomfort.  His own parents had disowned him
    when he had started turning.  Now his parents consisted of a tiny Italian
    woman that despaired over his diet and a vampire older than the pyramids.
    Could life get any stranger? 
    
    He looked down. "Caine. I...I was wondering..."
    
    "Yes?" Caine smiled, placing the thick glasses back on Ray's face affectionately.
    "It's about your spiritt friend, yes?" 
    
    He nodded. "Yeah. Um...is there anyway to bring someone back?"
    
    Caine considered it. "For how long?" He snaked his arm around Ray's shoulder,
    walking with him.  "A day? A week?" 
    
    "As long as possible."
    
    A look of thoughtfulnes went across Caine's face. "There's a way to make
    a spirit corporeal for two weeks. More if the blood is strong." 
    
    "Can we try?" He had seen the look on Vecchio's face, and had known it
    well; grief than transcended comprehension. Pain beyond endurance. 
    
    "Tomorrow."
    
    "Tonight. I'd rather tonight."
    
    Caine stared at him. "So be it. Tonight."
    
    "So, what do we do?" 
     
    "You go home and rest." 
     
    "But-" 
     
    "I said tonight.  It is morning now." 
     
    Ray grinned, caught.  "Skunk." 
     
    "My son, have you asked her whom you would raise?  You care for her.
    she  may be content with her lot.  I could do this thing, but I will
    only do it  if she is willing." 
     
    "I'll ask."  He opened his mouth to say more and hesitated. 
     
    "Yes, Raymond?" 
     
    "What should I call ya?" 
     
    "Call me Aja.  Thus was I called by my children while they still lived."
    
    Strangely pleased, Ray nodded and tried not to yawn. 
     
    "Go.  Let your Slayer care for you.  Return when she has given her answer."
    
    "'Kay.	G'night." 
     
    *** 
     
    Ray nipped at Fraser's ear, pinning him against the wall of their bedroom.
    "Hey. Aja said to let you take care of me. Think he meant this?" He caught
    Fraser's groan with a kiss. 
    
    "I sincerly doubt it."
    
    "Do I care?"
    
    A smile worked it's way to the corners of Fraser's lips. "Possibly not."
    
    Ray grinned. "No. Make that a hell no." He pulled Fraser closer with
    one hand, fingers trailing down the Mountie's back with the other. His
    head dipped down and he was biting at Fraser's jawline, then at his throat.
    
    Suddenly Fraser was lifting him up and they were moving with quick shuffling
    steps. Ray grunted as they landed on the bed quite loudly. "Geez, Fraser.
    Easy there...oh...." He felt licking at his neck. A tongue trailing the
    scars  where Ellery had bitten him. He closed his eyes, groaning and
    tilting his neck up. It felt good. Very good. 
    
    More nipping. With shaking fingers, he tangled them in Fraser's hair.
    He wondered if Fraser felt this...unhinged when he did this. 
    
    Suddenly it stopped, and Fraser was nose to nose with him. "You like
    that?" 
    
    "Uh..huh.." Ray's voice sounded as if it were coming through mollases.
    "Don't stop." He twisted his legs around Fraser's hips, holding so he
    couldn't get away. And so he wouldn't want to. "Don't. Stop." 
    
    "All right." They moved together, Fraser biting for once and Ray holding
    on while Fraser finally started to get why biting, just biting, seemed
    to make Ray just as happy as anything else they'd done together. 
    
    "Frase?" Later, they lay curled together, legs entwined and sheets sticking.
    Ray's breathing was fast, almost panting.  
    "Yes?" 
     
    "Do you think if you were dead you'd want ta come back?" 
     
    "I suppose that would depend on how I died  and if the people I loved
    were  still alive." 
     
    "Would ya come back fer me?" 
     
    "Without hesitation, unless, of course, returning would somehow be hurtful
    to you." He pressed a kiss to Ray's forhead, pulling the detective closer.
    
    "You could never hurt me, Ben." 
     
    "I hope." 
     
    "I know." 
     
    "Why do you ask, Ray?" 
     
    "Aja...Caine could bring Irene back for Vecchio." 
     
    "Forever?" 
     
    "Naa.  Just for two weeks or so.  Think they'd go for it?" 
     
    "Hmm.  That's not an easy question to answer, is it? The moral implicationas
    are intimidating, let alone the psychological impact and going through
    the grieving process a second time.  I didn't know Irene, just through
    Ray, and I don't think he could bear to lose her again. Why?"  
    "Ya saw him tonight.  The man's still stupid in love with her. Enough
    ta  jump /me./" 
     
    "What about Stella?" 
     
    "Huh.  Good question.  Forgot about the Stella." 
     
    "She's not the most caring individual, but she is what she is. This would
    hurt her as well." And you, if Stella got wind of it being your idea,
    Fraser thought. He couldn't bear anything happening to Ray.  
    "You're right. Should I even ask?" 
     
    "Perhaps now is not the right time for such magic.  Who knows what the
    future might bring?  Someday, thay may want to take you up on the offer."
    
    Ray nodded, suddenly leaning into Fraser, kissing him gently. "Love you."
    
    "And I, you..."
     
    *** 
    
    Her life  since leaving the Unfettered Church of the Holy Bible had been
    quiet and content and she was no longer called upon to preform miracles.
    Her time was devoted to her boyfriend and charity and she was enjoying
    the calm and ordered life they had made since discovering her unfortunate
    past.  
    She walked down the street not far from the apartment she shared with
    Davie  It was her favorite time of day, just past dawn, when even the
    poorer side of the city was beautiful. She was unaware as Lilith watched
    her, smiling her own smile.
    
     "Her." She looked at Calhou, nodding. "Perfect." 
     
    Calhoun tilted his head. "Yes. But would he attack her willingly?" He
    worried at his lower lip, still afraid to question her. 
     
    "Fata Morgana. He'll see her as I looked." 
     
    *** 
     
    Ray opened his eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the dark. He gave
    Fraser  a quick kiss on the forhead and got out of bed. Something strange
    was	happening.  Lilith was back in Chicago.  He could feel her. He knew
    where  she was. Knew what he had to do. He got dressed quickly, and ran
    out.  
    Fraser sat up a minute later, and whispered his name. 
     
    *** 
     
    The sun was bright on her face as Eloise cut through the small park by
    her  house.	It was empty and dead with the winter, but spring was not
    far away  and she looked forward to watching the green return.  She and
    Davie walked  here often. 
     
    She looked up at the sound of a branch braking and smiled in recognition.
    Detective Kowalski stared at her, hate deep in his eyes. She was shocked
    and her smile vanished. 
     
    Even more shocked when he growled at her, shoving her against the base
    of  the only statue in the garden. Biting her. Forcing his wrist to her
    lips.  She could hear him praying he still had some sabbat in him. Whatever
    that  meant. 
     
    Eloise screamed as teeth pierced flesh. She didn't know what else to
    do.  
    *** 
     
    Caine opened his eyes from a meditative trance, staring at Warfield in
    horror. "No..." 
     
    "My lord!  What is it?" 
     
    "She has deceived him. He has...he has found the Last Daughter of Eve!
    He  must be stopped!" 
     
    "Where?" 
     
    "A park.  A park with a statue of Minerva." 
     
    *** 
     
    /Yank!	What are you doing?  Stop!/ 
     
    "Shut up!" 
     
    /That's not HER!/ 
     
    Ray froze, horrorfied, staring at the panicked young girl he held so
    brutally. 
     
    "Eloise?" he breathed, realizing /what/ he had done.  He looked up. 
    Fraser's dad was just a few feet away, wide-eyed and furious. 
     
    /Here comes the cavalry.  Thank god./ 
     
    Strong hands yanked them apart, dragged them away from the park.  Ray
    was  too stunned and Eloise was too frightened to offer any kind of protest.
    Seperate cars awaited them and they sped off before Ray even noticed
    they  were Warfield's men. 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser stared at the werekid, not sure if Dief would be all right alone.
    When he'd been mostly wolf, he was able to leave Dief alone for hours.
    But now... 
    
    He blinked as the wolf morphed in his sleep. "Ray." He needed to find
    Caine. Now. 
    
    ***
    
    Ray sat in the back of the car, rocking back and forth as if in shock.
    He was cold, despite the warmth of the blood he'd just drank. He closed
    his eyes in a silent sob. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes,
    desperate to wipe away the image of the girl screaming. 
    
    "Stupid." Zuko hissed at him, driving quickly. "Do you even know what
    you've done?" 
    
    Ray didn't hear him, to busy contempulating finding the nearest stake.
    /God, please let her be all right. Don't let her die. Don't.../ "She's
    all right? She's ok?" He called out, desperately to anyone who would
    listen. The car stopped, and he was bodily forced out before Zuko's strong
    hands pulled him into the back entrance of Warfield's headquarters. 
    
    "Worse comes to worse, she'll be like you. Just what we need. Another
    fucking ghoulite." 
    
    /Ohhhh God.../
    
    //You're in trouble, Yank.//
    
    He could see her out of the corner of his eye, being attended to by Caine.
    She was pale, he'd obviously taken a lot of blood. It stained her dress,
    her neck. Oh God. 
    
    "Ray?" Fraser. No. Anything but that. 
    
    The Mountie hurried into the hall where Warfield's and Zuko's men were
    hurrying about.  Fraser's eyes were wide, not yet understanding anything
    beyond the fact that something truely horrible had occured.  He recognized
    Eloise, his initial delight turning into shock at the sight of blood.
    He  turned to Ray. The detective was so pale he looked about to faint.
    
    "Ray, what happened?"  Fraser seized his arm. 
     
    Kowalski just shook his head, speechless. He looked nauseous, like he
    was about to be ill. And then he was. 
    
     Fraser looked in horror at the mess, at Ray.  Blood.  He was vomiting
    blood.  That meant...Eloise.  
    Before he could even think to comment, no...demand what had happened,
    Zuko stalked by.  "Get him into the council room, Slayer.  We'll join
    you  shortly." 
     
    Fraser nodded, confused.  He lead Ray away. 
     
    *** 
     
    Warfield entered the council room a few minutes later to find Ray seated
    in  one of the wingback chairs off to the side by the fire place.  The
    drapes  were drawn against the morning sun.  The Slayer knelt beside
    the ghoulite,  concerned and anxious. 
     
    "Slayer," called Warfield, trying to disguise his distaste for this man.
    "A  moment." 
     
    He spoke quickly and to the point.  Fraser's jaw dropped and he cast
    a look  of sheer disbelief at the Chicago detective when Warfield was
    finished.  
    "Can I speak to her?" 
     
    "Yes.  It may help." 
     
    *** 
     
    Half an hour later, Caine, Zuko, and Warfield returned to the council
    room  and Ray Kowalski.  Without ceremony, without warning, Zuko gave
    an  inarticulate cry and lashed out, slapping Ray across the face so
    hard he  knocked his glasses off and almost knocked him out of his seat.
    They heard  a crack and a spray of blood spattered as far as where Caine
    sat on an	ottoman by the fire place.  Fraser jumped to his feet, furious
    beyond words  despite his own anger, and ready to defend the American.
    Ray did nothing,  just sat up straight again and winced at the light.
    
    "Franco!" hissed Warfield dangerously. 
     
    Zuko turned.  "I am /sick/ of catering to this ignorant ghoulite scum!"
    It was then that Fraser realised that ghoulite was not a term to describe
    what Ray was.  It was an insult, and not to be taken lightly.  
    "Nothing can justify you striking a prince!" 
     
    "He is /not/ my prince!" 
     
    "No," said Caine quietly, his gaze shifting between the players in this
    unfortunate scene, "he is /my/ prince." 
     
    Fraser pushed Zuko away from Ray and knelt before his seat.  Only now
    did he  see Ray was silently crying, his eyes closed.  Devestated, mad
    at himself  for being too selfishly caught in his own reaction to consider
    Ray's, Fraser  gently pulled his lover into a tender embrace.	Ray, blind
    and in pain,  pressed his face against the Mountie's neck, his voice
    a tiny whisper for  Fraser's ears. 
     
    "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  Oh God, Ben, I'm sorry." 
     
    Fraser felt his heart break anew for this man.	He reached up, brushing
    the  back of Ray's neck and his hair, rocking him slightly. 
     
    Caine looked down at the blood that stained the sleeve of his robe and
    lay  bright on his hand. 
     
    "You are my son as well, Frank, and I apologize to you for the confusion
    and  anger the events I have orchestrated have caused for you.  Do not
    blame  Prince Kowalski.  Blame me." 
     
    "Never!  He-" 
     
    "Is ignorant.  I take the blame for that oversight." 
     
    "My Lord Caine-"  Zuko was floored by such a statement from the ancient.
    "I-No!	Prince Kowalski was made my responsibility.  I failed him and
    my  prince and you."  He turned and lifted Ray's glasses from where they'd
    fallen by the wall.  They were broken. Zuko sighed, shamed yet again.
    He'd  not only struck a prince, he'd blinded him as well. 
     
    Fraser closed his eyes as Ray's silent tears turned into wracking sobs
    that  shook his whole body.  Not for the first time, the Slayer was amazed
    at the  intensity of Ray's emotions and the freedom with which he expressed
    them.   He knew his lover was overwrought at his mistake.  Much as Vecchio
    had been  when he kissed Ray.  The paralells were frightening.  He had
    forgiven Ray  Vecchio so easily.  Could he do less for the man now in
    his arms?  Did he  deserve less? 
     
    He felt his lover's long, elegant hands pluck at his flannel shirt, not
    quite sure his touch was welcome and frightened to find out the truth.
    In  response, Fraser tightened his grip, holding the younger man close
    and	pressing his lips to that soft hair. 
     
    "Please turn off the lights," he asked Zuko.  Then he drew back, clasping
    his hands behind Ray's neck as he gazed at the bent head and purple hair.
    
    "Ray?" 
     
    He could feel the American trembling. 
     
    "Ray?  Look at me please." 
     
    Frightened black eyes in a pale and swollen face finally met Fraser's
    blue  eyes. 
     
    "I have spoken with Eloise, Ray.  She's fine.  You didn't hurt her. 
    She's  frightened, but she's not injured." 
     
    It took several tries for Ray to regain command of his voice.	
    "I-I-saw-Vic-toria.  Made her-drink-" 
     
    "Shh.   You did not hurt her." 
     
    "I-" He gulped, trying to control his ragged breathing and his sobbing.
    "I-drank.  Made her-" 
     
    "Shh."	Fraser pulled him close again. It was not fair.  Ray did not 
    deserve this. 
     
    "Tired.  I'm so tired." 
     
    Fraser looked at Warfield.  "Is there somewhere-?" 
     
    "With me," ordered Zuko, still carrying the broken glasses. 
     
     ***
    
    Fraser sat against the backboard of a curtained bed, holding a trembling
    and sobbing Ray close for nearly an hour before the detective was able
    to  fall asleep. He kept apologizing, over and over. It was as if the
    very  thought that he might've caused someone harm were killing him.
    Fraser had  not seen a reaction like this since the incident with Beth
    Botrelle.  
    Both occasions, the person he believed he'd hurt had forgiven him, but
    he  was unable to forgive himself. This worried the Slayer. 
     
    As did what was happening to Eloise. He had...not exactly lied to Ray.
    Delayed, perhaps? Yes. Delayed telling him that Eloise /was/ becoming
    a  ghoulite...or whatever the correct term for what Ray was was, but
    that she  seemed slightly less effected by it. 
     
    No, it would do no good to tell Ray now. He would only blame himself,
    and  not who needed to be blamed. 
     
    Lilith. 
     
    He looked up sharply as the door opened slowly.  Zuko stepped into the
    room  silently, all lights in the hall turned off so no light would disturb
    Ray's  sleep.	
    
    It was a thoughtful gesture.  He approached the bed, ignoring Fraser
    as he gazed down at the man he had struck.  Kowalski's jaw was brusing.
    Zuko had forgotten, in that moment of fury, his own strength and how
    fragile  the bodies of the living could be.  Or maybe he'd just ignored
    what he knew.  
    He set something down on the nightstand by the bed.  Fraser glanced over,
    just able to make out what it was.  Ray's glasses.  He'd replaced them.
    
    As silently as he entered, Zuko left, closing the door behind him.  Fraser
    settled down closer to Ray, knowing he couldn't leave.	
    
    He should have brought Dief.  Perhaps he could call one of the McGets
    to go over to the apartment and take care of him.  
    He didn't think he'd be able to sleep. It wasn't even noon yet. He tried
    the  trick he'd been using for months, just listening to Ray breath,
    matching the  slow breaths with his own.  Had he known he drifted off,
    Fraser would have  been surprised. 
     
    *** 
    
    Caine sat at the council table with Warfield in front of him. In hushed
    tones, they discussed what Lilith had done, what Ray had done. Everything.
    
    "It would have happened anyway, my lord? Isn't that what the prophecy
    stated?" Warfield asked, quietly. "That the dark son of Lilith and Caine
    would bring across the last daughter of Eve."  
    "Yes. It's just that. Bring across. That presumes that he's across as
    well. He isn't, he's not a vampire. He probabally will not be one for
    a long time, especially if his soul has his way." Caine smiled, affectionately.
    "No. This was not to be. Just as we corrupted my son for her, she has
    corrupted the prophecy for us."  
    "We'll stop her." 
     
    "Will we?" 
     
    Warfield gazed at the Eldest.  "Do we have a choice?" 
     
    *** 
     
    Ray Vecchio tried to hide his anxiety as he took a sip of his wine. He
    was  far from comfortable and he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep last
    night.   Memories of Irene haunted him, left him pacing the floor of
    his bedroom,  talking to a woman he couldn't be sure was really there.
    How the hell was  he going to look Stanley in the eye ever again?  He
    knew Stella  suspected...something.	
    
    He could tell by the tilt of her head and the long  looks she cast him
    across the table.  He was glad they were in a public place. Not even
    the Stella, as he'd started to call her after he heard Stan us the title,
    would make a sizable fuss in her favorite restaurant.  
    "You're very quiet.  How was the picnic yesterday?" 
     
    He cleared his throat. "Uh...Interesting.  Jay dismantled this priest's
    Mustang.  It got ugly when Thatcher found out. She nearly took off Stan's
    head." 
     
    "I'm sorry I missed it.  What stopped her?" 
     
    "Fraser." 
     
    Stella made a face.  "Always Fraser." 
     
    He almost apologized, but stopped himself.  Benny was his friend and
    a good  one and he was not going to say he was sorry for mentioning him.
    
    "Did they fix the car?" 
     
    "Hmm?" 
     
    "The car.  Did.  They. Fix. It?" 
     
    He hated when she patronized.  Time to rub the fur the wrong way, he
    decided... 
     
    "Yeah, Stan got it back together.  He had another flash last night. 
    It was  pretty disturbing." 
     
    "Another one?  I'm surprised he still has them on his own." 
     
    Vecchio paused in poking at his food.  "What is that supposed to mean?"
    
    "It's very unusual for humans to continue having flashes on their own
    after  being sent the initial one.  There can't be a fifty people on
    the planet  that would do that.  It helps that he can speak to the dead,
    too.  I'm sure  they must drive him insane." 
     
    She spoke matter-of-factly, as if she was talking about a lab rat and
    not  the man she'd been married to. Then again, this was a woman who
    boiled rats  for coffee... 
     
    "Did you...send him a flash?" 
     
    Stella smiled, reaching for another piece of bread.  "Of course.  It
    was the  week of our divorce.  Ray was down, alone, abandoned, I just
    sent him a  going away present." 
     
    He wasn't hearing this.  Was he? 
     
    "Have you ever /seen/ what those flashes /do/ to him, Stella?" 
     
    "No.  I honestly don't care." 
     
    His jaw and his knife both dropped. 
     
    She smiled and leaned across the table to rest her palm agaisnt the side
    of  his face.  "I'm a vengance demon, darling.  It's what I do." 
     
    "He could bleed to death on of these days, Stella!" 
     
    "Then he'd be able to talk to himself, I suppose?" 
     
    "He doesn't just talk to them, damnit! He sees-" 
     
    "What?!" 
     
    "Nothing.  Forget it." 
     
    "No.  You said he can /see/ the dead?  Whom has he seen?" 
     
    "I'm only sure of Irene Zuko." 
     
    "As in the Elder?" 
     
    "His sister." 
     
    "Sister?  She's bound to Zuko?" 
     
    "Yeah." 
     
    "Liar. Who is she bound to?" 
     
    He was silent.  Understanding dawned in her cold eyes. 
     
    "She's bound to you, isn't she?" 
     
    "She's helped us a lot in these cases against the Gangrel," he replied,
    trying to evade her. 
     
    Stella was looking at him as if she was sizing him up in the gladitorial
    ring.  "Did you know the people that can see the dead are usually able
    to  act as hosts for the spirits of the dead?  That the Spirits can posess
    such  people?  Actually /become/ themselves once again for a short time?"
    
    Christ.  His heart rate was up.  He was starting to sweat.  Christ. 
    
    "Did you know this, Ray?  Or did you...find out?" 
    
    "I don't know what you're talking about." He pickd up his fork, going
    back to eating. She grabbed his wrist. Tightly. He'd almost forgotten
    how strong she was, he could practically feel the bones rubbing together.
    "Stella." 
    
    "Did you find out, Ray? Did she take over his body?" Her other hand,
    the one gripping his face forced him to look at her. "Tell me." 
    
    "Let go, Stella. Give it up."
    
    "Tell me!" She sounded half hysterical. He was provoking her. Dammit.
    
    "Yesss..." He looked down.
    
    "Something happened. She...told you she loved you." She was enjoying
    this, enjoying tormenting him.  The half-smile on her face betrayed the
    pleasure she felt at forcing a confession out of him. He could believe
    that she'd  done that to Stan.  
    God, he must've gone through hell.
    
    "Yess..."
    
    "She....kissed you?"
    
    He paused, not answering. The look on her face was answer enough. "You
    kissed my ex husband. Did anything ele happen?" 
    
    "No..." He looked down, shivering. He was afraid. God he was afraid.
    "Nothing." 
    
    "Good. Because you know what would have happened if it had." She smiled,
    almost wickedly. And he thought of Stan, and a lot of things about the
    annoying  detective that had taken over his life for two years were frighteningly
    clear. 
    
    ***
    
    "Mmm..." He woke up in Fraser's arms, his breathing in time with the
    mountie's. "Frase?" The night's events came to him in a sudden rush,
    and he shuddered, waking Fraser. 
    
    "Ray. Go back to sleep."
    
    "Can't...I have to see her. I have to say I'm sorry..."
    
    "She knows.  Please, Ray.  You need more sleep." 
     
    "I-" 
     
    Fraser deliberately shifted his weight, pinning Ray down gently as he
    pulled  the pillows and blankets closer around them both, making a nest
    that was  soft and warm and safe for his lover. 
     
    "She knows.  You can see her later.  She's asleep now, too." 
     
    He felt the American cling tight to him as the quiet words spilled out.
    
    "God, Fraser, I woke up this morning and I /knew/ she was in that park
    and I  knew I had to try and stop her or she'd be after you and Dief.
    It was	/her./  Then when Eloise screamed ,  I was so sick at what I'd
    done."  
    Slowly, the Slayer began to stroke the soft hair that brushed his neck.
    "Warfield was once fooled by that same spell, Ray.  He lost his younger
    brother to the Ravnos clan when their elder disguised himself as	Warfield
    and lured him into a trap." 
     
    "Sympathy from the devil, huh?" 
     
    "Something like that." 
     
    "Are ya mad at me?" 
     
    "No.  How could I be?" 
     
    "Easy. One more thing I fucked up." 
     
    "Ray...given your complete lack of preparation for the role you've been
    forced to assume, you've done remarkably well." 
     
    "Then how come my clan won't do anything I tell them until they clear
    it  with you?" 
     
    "Uh..." 
     
    "Don't bother. Just talk to me.  Tell me a story." 
     
    He considered for a moment, then launched into the most protracted and
    boring Inuit story he could think of off the top of his head.  Fraser
    hadn't  spoken for two minutes before he felt the detective's breathing
    return to  its previous rhythem and Ray became deadweight on his chest.
    A sigh escaped  him as he continued to stroke Ray's hair. 
     
    He needed to speak to Caine.  Their ignorance was going to get people
    hurt,  and that was all Ray needed now. 
    
    He felt Ray twist to get closer to him, and hugged him tightly. "Dief..."
    Oh dear. Dief. 
    
    He'd been left alone in an apartment for a long time. Fraser had left
    just before six and now it was past noon.  Who knew what kind of trouble
    he'd gotten into. He shuddered to think of the state he'd find the apartment
    in. Or Ray's turtle. 
    
    Slowly, gently, he reached to the nightstand and picked up the cellphone
    he'd placed there. Eyes still on Ray, one arm still around him, he dialed
    quickly. 
    
    ***
    
    "Vecchio." His voice was shaking, he knew it. His hands certainly were.
    He kept both eyes on Stella. She was looking particularly triumphant.
    
    "Ray?" Fraser's voice was quiet. Barely a whisper. 
    
    He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Not again, Fraser."
    
    "What?"
    
    "Is he hurt again?"
    
    "Well...not physically, no. Aside from a bruised jaw, but that's not
    important." Ray opened his eyes, rolling them. He kept them on Stella.
    Was she laughing? God, she was cold. "I was wondering if you could stop
    by our apartment and check on Diefenbaker. He's been in there, alone
    for some time and..." 
    
    //Thank you, thank you, thank you, Benny.  I love you for this.// 
    
    "You want to see if he's redecorated."
    
    "Yes."
    
    He sighed with sudden, shocking relief. Relief from the Stella. He suddenly
    saw the nickname for what it probabally was. She wasn't human. She was
    the Stella. He almost giggled. "Sure, Benny." He hung up. "Gotta go."
    
    "Well?" 
    
    "I gotta go check on Dief."
    
    "I'll go with you."
    
    He tried to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice.  "Great."
    
    They drove to the apartment, Vecchio letting himself in with the key
    they'd given him. They'd given one to each of the McGets, and had had
    a spare. He wondered if they'd give one to the rest of the Gangrel clan
    once Warfield finally let him be elder of /them/. Somehow he doubted
    that was Stan's idea. 
    
    He opened the door and they just stood there for a minute. Shocked. "Oh
    my God." 
    
    Stella winced. "Someone got a little angry, didn't they?" She stepped
    into the mess, careful not to step on broken CDs and cold pizza. "Wonder
    how much of this is Ray's, and how much was the wolf." 
    
    "Stella. Fraser makes him clean it up."
    
    "Nobody can make him clean up. The man's like a magnetic trash bin."
    She heard a low growl in looked down. Dief was staring up at her, eyes
    glaring, teeth bared. It looked almost comical in human form. She reached
    out to smooth back his hair. 
    
    And he bit her.
    
    She cried out in pain and anger, pulling back. Blue blood dripped from
    the wound, which healed quickly. Ray stared in shock. 
    
    And then Dief ran, grabbing something in mid run. Socks?
    
    "Dief!!" Ray ran after him, leaving Stella behind. He could hear he shouted
    warnings and for once did not care. She had insulted his family and he
    had retaliated the only way he knew how.  Damn!  
    Vechio burst out the front doors of the apartment building, squinting
    at the  bright light and cold. No sign of him.  Damn! 
     
    He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Kowalski's number from memory. 
    It  barely rang once before Fraser answered. 
     
    "Detective Ko-" 
     
    "Benny, he got away.  He bit Stella and ran off." 
     
    "Oh, dear," said the soft voice.  "Which way did he run?" 
     
    "I didn't see. He grabbed something before he left.  I think it was a
    pair  of socks." 
     
    "Hmm.  He has taken a liking to chewing on Ray's socks lately.	Did you
    see  the color?" 
     
    "Color?" 
     
    "Of the socks." 
     
    "Uh, blue I think," he said, fumbling for the keys to the Riv. 
     
    "Hmm." 
     
    "Where would he go?" 
     
    "A lot of places.  He knows the city fairly well." 
     
    "Yeah, well, with all that's going on lately we can't let him run off
    like  this."	As he spoke he started the car, Stella temporarily forgotten
    in  light of this greater emergency. 
     
    "Agreed.  We're at Warfield's. Can you pick us up?" 
     
    "Sure.	Be there in twenty minutes." 
     
    *** 
     
    Stella watched the green Buick pull out of the lot.  He was leaving her
    here.  No matter.  She'd wanted to see Stan's new place and this was
    the  perfect excuse.  Besides, Ray wouldn't be forgetting her anytime
    soon after  today... 
     
    *** 
     
    "Ray?  Ray?  Wake up.  We have to go." 
     
    "Hnn?" 
     
    "Wake up.  We have to go find Diefenbaker." 
     
    He felt the American stir, looking sleepy and fuzzy. 
     
    "Gaa." 
     
    "Wake up.  Ray will be here in a few minutes.  Come on.  Go wash your
    face."  
    In five minute's time, he had Ray upright and functioning.  One of Zuko's
    men was kind enough to fetch Ray some coffee and Fraser made sure he
    drank  it. 
     
    "What's up?" 
     
    "Ray went to check on Dief.  He ran away. Apparently he bit Stella."
    
    "Aw, crud, Fraser!  We gotta find him!" 
     
    "We will, Ray. Don't worry." 
     
    "He's just a kid!" 
     
    "Ray, he's a fully grown werewolf. He knows how to take care of himself.
    Besides, I think you would know if anything happened to him." 
     
    "Howszat?" 
     
    "You react to each other's emotions in times of stress." 
     
    "Oh.  Yeah." Ray had forgotton about that. Dief really hadn't been in
    a time of distress. Yet.  
    "Let's go wait for Ray outside.  We can come back later to check on Eloise."
    
    Ray slumped a bit.  "Yeah. Okay." 
     
    *** 
     
    The pain started behind his eyes when he was little more than halfway
    there.    A dull ache, like a migraine about to burst forth and blind
    him.  Vecchio  rubbed his eyes as he sat at a red light.  He hadn't gotten
    a migraine since  he was a teenager.  Great.  Just what he needed right
    now.  Unless...  
    She wouldn't, would she? 
     
    He took a deep breath, trying to clear his vision.  He had to get there
    fast.  He definately needed to talk to Stan, if only to warn him that
    the  Stela knew what had happened in the back seat of this very car Saturday
    night. 
     
    Damn. 
     
    *** 
    
    It was Ray who saw it first. The Riv, swerving down the street towards
    the council building. He watched, his head suddenly aching a lot, as
    the car fish tailed hitting first the Prince's limo, and then Zuko's
    BMW. He heard Zuko's cry of indignation and watched as Fraser ran towards
    the car, fear etched on every line of his face. 
    
    Ray sat with a plop on the sidewalk, rubbing his temples. A flash? Now?
    Great. He barely heard Zuko cursing all human kind as the vampire rushed
    over to the crash. 
    
    //Men and their cars.  God, is Fraser the only normal person I know?
    Or is  he like this because he doesn't have a car?// 
    
    Conscious thought scattered as the vision came. He saw Irene. Saw her
    and  Zuko arguing, heard the gun go off and saw her fall. Vecchio screaming
    as  Ray never imagined he could. 
     
    Oh, God!  Oh, God!  
    
    His eyes twitched, and he fell back on the sidewalk, staring blankly
    at the sky through tinted glasses. What the hell? 
    
    He saw her now, only corporeal. It must work, then. But then he saw Lilith.
    Saw her dancing with Ray, and then saw Lilith. Pain in her face, and
    again he saw Lilith. 
    
    Heard her screaming and saw Lilith. 
    
    "Irene?" 
    
    Fraser opened the car door, worried when he saw Vecchio slumped against
    the wheel of the car, blood running out of his nose. He must've hit it
    hard. "Ray? Are you all right?" He worried at the tremorous shaking that
    Ray was doing. 
    
    "Irene...oh God....no..." 
     
    Then he screamed. 
     
    "Now what the hell is going on?" demanded Zuko, gaping at the wreck that
    was  his car in exasperation.  Of course that ancient tank Vecchio drove
    wasn't  even scratched. "Fucking stupid ghoulites with their fucking
    friends and fucking flashes..." he muttered, under his breath, knowing
    Fraser couldn't hear him.  "If I was still alive I'd have an ulcer right
    now."  
    Fraser shook his head. "I'm not sure. It-it looks like when Ray gets
    a  flash. Ray!" 
     
    He twisted, looking over at the detective.  Ray was sprawled out on the
    sidewalk, his body twitching. His nose bleeding heavily. He looked like
    he was in a great deal of pain.  
    Zuko growled, looking heavenwards to a god that no longer had any claim
    on  him.  "Not another one.  Please." 
     
    "Ray."	Fraser gently supported his friend.  "Ray, what do you see?  Tell
    me  what you see." 
     
    He was trembling and in pain.  Cold.  Frightened.  The whole of his 
    existance was burning agony and the images rioting through his mind.
    Irene,  dying. The hospital.  Fraser. Then...Irene dancing with him.
    Not at	Zuko's party.  Somewhere else.  Dancing.  Then...who was this?
    Lilith?  She  was different now.  Familiar somehow.  Then Irene, in his
    arms, dying  again... 
     
    "...no," he heard a voice moan.  "No, no, no, no, oh God, no!" 
     
    "Tell me!" 
     
    "Irene." 
     
    The Slayer looked up at Frank Zuko. The daywalker was pale, his features
    drawn. "Irene?" his voice was soft at the mention of his sister. "She's
    here?" 
    
    "She's always here..." Vecchio whispered. "Fraser, how can Lilith kill
    her of she's already dead?" His voice came in trembling gasps. He could
    hear Stan's pained moans, and looked over. For him, it had hurt like
    a migraine with pictures. They looked more painful for Stan. More debilitating.
    Maybe it was worse for someone who could talk to the dead. 
    
    Fraser wasn't sure what to tell him. Should he tell him about the spell
    Ray had said they could do? Maybe. Maybe later. Away from Zuko. "Let's
    get to the apartment." 
    
    Zuko was now standing over Ray, watching him. The ghoulite's eyes opened
    and suddenly he was screaming: "Fraser! Fraser!!!" 
    
    "Yes, Ray?"
    
    "The sky is red. Why is the sky red?"
    
    Fraser and Vecchio looked at each other, then at Ray. "Your glasses,
    Ray. They're tinted red..." 
    
    "Since when??"
    
    "Since three hours ago." Zuko whispered, fed up, then left to go back
    inside. He didn't want to hear anymore about his sister. It had been
    enough  pain on him already.  He didn't want to add to it. 
    
    ***
    
    Somehow they managed to get back to the apartment, both Rays falling
    asleep  during the short drive and leaving the Mountie to all but carry
    them upstairs.  Stella had left, leaving the door wide open. For some
    reason, she'd decided to clean up most of the mess. The broken tapes
    and CDs were all in white garbage bags, the food and magazines in neat
    piles. Vecchio didn't take time to even guess why she'd done that, though
    Ray could have told him it was her way of saying she was either sorry
    or had energy to burn.They watched from the couch as Fraser examined
    the apartment, looking for some clue as to where the wolf kid had gone.
    
    "It was Stella," Vecchio whispered when Fraser went into the bedroom.
    
    "What was?" Ray opened one eye, then the other. He felt completely drained.
    His companion only looked slight better. 
    
    Vecchio shrugged with one shoulder. "The flash. What happened in the
    parking lot  She did that." 
    
    "Oh...You piss her off, or something?"
    
    "She found out. About Irene, me and you."
    
    Ray froze. "Crap."
    
    "Yeah. Did you know she gave you your first flash?" They spoke in hushed
    tones, not wanting to get Fraser into this conversation, unaware that
    as he quietly searched through the bedroom, he had paused when he heard
    them talking and could hear every word. 
    
    "Wha?" 
     
    "She did that to you.  You had the first one the week after your divorce
    was  finalized, right?" 
     
    "Yeah..." 
     
    Vecchio nodded.  "She did it to you.  She called it a going away present.
    She said it's unusual for humans to continue having flashes.  That there
    aren't many people like you." 
     
    Ray dropped back into the couch, staring at the ceiling.  "Christ." 
    
    They both looked up as Fraser entered the living room again.  "Ray, you
    said  he had a pair of socks?" 
     
    "Yeah.	Blue ones." 
     
    "Those argyle things?  Those're his favorites. He saves them for good.
    Whatever 'good' is when you're a werekid." 
     
    "I think I may know where he is.  Ray, if you could please call your
    house  and ask your mother or Francesca to call if Dief shows up?  He
    may have gone  to visit Ante. I'll be back.  There's someplace I want
    to check.  Ray, may  I borrow the GTO?" 
     
    "Keys are in my jacket, Frase." 
     
    ***
    
    Stella was waiting for him in the GTO when he got there. She was staring
    at the windshield, tapping her fingers on the seat. Ice blue eyes turned
    on him when he sat. "Constable." 
    
    Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see her here. "Why?"
    
    She understand his unspoken question. "He betrayed me, it's what I do.
    He's lucky parts aren't falling off." She looked at him. "But I am sorry.
    He must've loved her a lot." 
    
    "He loves you." 
    
    "He's afraid of me."
    
    "He loves you. Do you really want him to be afraid of you, too? Is that
    somehow gratifying for you, Madame Kowalski?" Fraser looked away, then
    back at her. "Why Ray, though? Stan, I mean. Why? You divorced him."
    
    She was silent. "I don't know."
    
    "You must know!" He was indignant. People didn't just hurt people without
    reason. Not in his world. Well...rarely. 
    
    "Must I?" She smirked. "Maybe because the divorce hurt me, too, Constable.
    I love Ray. I just can't be with him. And I'm not sorry." 
     
    "That's not love." 
     
    She opened the car door and exited, pausing to lean in.  "Depends on
    your  definition." 
     
    Then she closed the door and left.  Fraser sat still for a few moments,
    trying to catch up with the events of the day. Then he started up the
    GTO  and went in search of his friend. 
     
    *** 
     
    Kowalski was dozing almost instantly, curled up on the couch.  Vecchio
    had  mostly recovered from the shock of a flash and it was with a new
    sympathy  that he threw a blanket over the skinny, purple-haired detective
    beside him.  
    
    God, to go through that kind of pain on a regular basis...He regretted
    his  comments from the case with Lady Killer.  He wondered if Stan had
    ever	blamed him...probabally not, if half of what Benny had said about
    him was  true. 
     
    Suddenly Stan jerked awake, eyes wide and staring.  "Vecchio!" 
     
    "What?	What's wrong?" 
     
    "Where's Irene?" She wasn't here. God, why wasn't she here?
    
    "She's not here?"
    
    "No. Oh God...it's started."
    
    "What's started?"
    
    Ray looked at Vecchio, unsure of what to tell him and what not to tell
    him? 
    
    ***
    
    He knew exactly where Dief was. He pulled up outside the building, and
    knocked on the door, more out of courtesy then anything else. He pushed
    open the door of the warehouse, and looked around. Maggie was sitting
    on the floor, playing with Dief and a pair of Ray's socks. Argyle ones,
    The Holy Holey Argyle, as Ray called them. He smiled, affectionately,
    relieved that Diefenbaker was all right, simply visiting an old flame,
    as it were. 
    
    And then he saw the tail. He frowned, sitting by the werekid and making
    him look at him. he demanded as Maggie pushed her nose under his hand,
    demanding to be petted. "What happened?" he demanded. Traces of Stella's
    blood was still on his lips. He closed his eyes. "That was foolish. Dief,
    you know demon blood hampers transformations. You'll have a tail for
    a long time now.." 
    
    Dief thumped it, happily, grinning at him.
    
    "Well, yes, I know you like it. But you'll be very difficult to enroll
    in school. No, I don't think that's funny." 
    
    ***
    
    Lilith stood over the slab in her rooms, holding her bloody wrist over
    a chalice, beside her Calhoun chanted from the book of spells, holding
    a slash of dark black hair over a candle. The bones of the one they would
    rise lay on the slab, their death stench prominent. 
    
    As they chanted together, muscle began to knit over the bones, followed
    by organs and flesh. While they worked, a team of Calhoun's antitribu
    moved towards the warehouse. A Tzimisce spy had alerted them to the wolf's
    prescence. THe blood would be needed to bring the woman awake. Not all
    of it, just a small bit. Enough to awaken her. 
    
    The hair in Calhoun's hands went up in flames, and hair began to grown
    from the skull. 
    
    ***
    
    He finally persuaded Dief to come home, promising the werewolf he could
    visit again soon.  He left the socks with Maggie and she seemed to like
    them, licking Dief's face and growling affectionately at him. 
     
    By the time they got back to the apartment, it was dark out.  The Riv
    was gone and only one light was on in their apartment. Fraser hurried
    up the stairs, eager to set Ray's mind at ease. It had been a trying
    weekend. 
    	 
    Yesterday he'd thought he would dread returning to the consulate.  Now
    he  was hoping the Inspector gave him sentry duty all week.  He desperately
    needed to think. 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    He pushed open the door, letting Dief in.  Ray sat on the couch, his
    head  bent.  He looked exhausted. 
     
    "Ray?  What is it?" 
     
    "Irene," he whispered as Dief ran up and hugged him.  "She's gone." 
    
    "Where is Ray?" 
     
    "I...I told him about the spell.  He's tryin' ta find her." 
     
    "How can he?" 
     
    "He called Caine.  He's going to her grave." 
     
    "They're going to try to bring her back?" Fraser wasn't sure he understood.
    Shouldn't Ray be happy? 
    
    "Didn't you hear me? She's gone." Ray stared at him, incredulously. "Someone's
    already done it." 
    
    "Caine?"
    
    Ray shook his head, picking up the phone as it rang. "Kowalski." He let
    out a breath so hard it frightened Fraser. "God. I'm sorry. I'm on my
    way." He hung up, staring at the floor and holding Dief tightly. 
    
    "What?"
    
    "Her grave was dug up. Someone took the bones. Caine recognized the blood
    smell." He closed his eyes and Fraser knew. 
    
    "Lilith."
    
    ***
    
    Zuko wasn't at Warfield's, neither was Vecchio.  Caine greeted them and
    lead  them into the council room.  Ray nearly balked when he saw Eloise
    seated by  the fire place, staring into the flames contentedly. 
    He did not want to deal with this right now. 
     
    "Aja...please," he begged.  The old vampire reassured him with by taking
    his  arm and gently drawing him closer. 
     
    "You have nothing to fear, my child.  Come, she would speak to you."
    
    "Detective Kowalski," said Eloise with the pacific calm that was such
    a part  of her.  "Please come talk to me. Constable Fraser.  I'm glad
    to see you  again. Who is this?" 
     
    He'd forgotten that charming drawl, those liqiud eyes.	She was one of
    the  few truely innocent people he'd ever met in his life. 
     
    She was looking at the werekid curiously, 
     
    "You remember Diefenbaker," prompted Fraser, pushing Ray towards a chair.
    
    She blinked.  "He's changed." 
     
    "He's a werewolf." 
     
    Caine frowned when he noticed the tail.  Ray made a face. 
     
    "He bit Stella." 
     
    "Ah."
    
    Ray looked up, afraid to look at Eloise. "I'm sorry..." He hugged himself
    again, shaking.   "I didn't...I didn't know..." 
    
    Caine pulled Fraser out the door, gently, leaving the two alone. Eloise
    came to stand by him, kneeling beside him smiling. "It's all right."
    
    "No." He leaned forward, buring his face in his hands. It wasn't all
    right. He'd done to her what Ellery had done to him. How could that be
    all right? 
    
    "It's all right." She took his chin in her hand, making him look up.
    "It would've happened anyway, Lord Caine said it would. He said it's
    all right. They'll make it all right." 
    
    "How?"
    
    She cocked her head.  "Do you trust Lord Caine?" 
     
    "Yeah," he whispered. 
     
    "Do you know all the reasons why?" 
     
    He shook his head. 
     
    "That's faith, Detective.  If you have it, it can see you through anything."
    
    ***
    
    Caine sighed, staring at them through the doorway. "Lilith has your friend's
    soul. The one called Irene Zuko. She will exploit that."  He turned to
    Fraser, eyes haunted. "I've seen her do this before. To my father, later
    in his life after my mother had died. She brought her back to cause him
    grief." 
    
    "Is this what she plans to do to Ray?"
    
    "I don't know." Caine watched quietly. "But she needs werewolf blood
    to do it. Not easy to come by. The Garou tend to stay in the woods. She'll
    go to Diefenbaker." 
    
    "Then we'll have to keep him safe."
    
    ***
    
    It was Monday.	It was very, very Monday. 
     
    Harding Welsh sat at his desk and tried to figure out where the weekend
    had  gone, sipping bad coffee and checking duty rosters.  Kowalski had
    called out  sick.  No surprise there.  Anemic didn't begin to describe
    him.  Vecchio was  out sick, too? That was odd. 
     
    A knock on the door.  "Come," he called, intent on the paperwork until
    he  caught a whiff of perfume. 
     
    He looked up. A petite woman with too-red hair, a tailored suit and 
    precision make-up entered his office.  On her heels was a tall, dark-haired
    man that was a touch scruffier than his elegant companion.  Welah supposed
    he was good looking if there were women in America who found anal retentive
    to be sexy. 
     
    "Lt. Welsh?" asked the woman. 
     
    "Yeah?" 
     
    Badges were produced.  "We're with the FBI.  This is Inquisitor Mulder,
    I'm  Inquisitor Scully.  We'd like some information on one of your detectives."
    
    "Which one?" 
     
    "Stanley Kowalski." 
     
    Why wasn't he surprised?  "In reference to what?" 
     
    "Recent events in a remote Canadian valley have been brought to our 
    attention," droned Mulder, perched on the edge of the couch.  Welsh hoped
    he  got sucked in. 
    
    "A mass meeting of the Gangrel clan occoured amidst a series  
    of suspect events.  The unprecidented vampirical migration of unknown
    numbers of undead entities, all converging on a spot where a medivac
    chopper  was downed for no discenable reason.  Investigators from the
    RCMS found  numerous signs of recent vampirical activity.  Noteworthy
    was the almosr  complete lack of fauna in the area with the exception
    of a herd of caribu. Number two hundred and seventeen animals, all dead,
    every drop of blood drained out of the, and an inordinant number of ravens."
    
    "Ravens?" promted Welsh, wishing he had more coffee. 
     
    "In the snow was found blood, both vampirical and human, and body fluids."
    
    Sounded like Kowalski. Red, too. 
     
    "Fluids?"  He tried to sound interested. 
     
    "There have been rapid developments on the vampirical heirarchy of late,
    most events centering on the emergence of a new prince, namely Stanley
    Kowalski." 
     
    Welsh looked at Scully.  "Is he Candian?" 
     
    "Not to my knowledge." 
     
    "Well, Inquisitors, I'd let you talk to him, but he's out sick today."
    
    Scully's eyes flickered at that.  "Does he do that often?" 
     
    "Oh, yeah.  When he's sick." 
     
    "Has he been in Canada recently?" asked Mulder, trying to extricate himself
    from the furniture's answer to the LaBray Tar Pits. 
     
    "Inquisitors, I can't speak for the FBI, but in Chicago police get these
    things called days off.  What they choose to do with them is their  business."
    
    "Has Detective Kowalski displayed any unusual behavior lately?" inquired
    Scully. 
     
    "For Kowalski?	He dyed his hair purple." 
     
    Squeeked Mulder, "Purple?" 
     
    Welsh got defensive of his flakey detective.  "Yeah.  With red stripes.
    It  suits him." 
     
    The two Feds exchanged a look, clearly recognizing they were getting
    nowhere  here. 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser stood outside the consulate, staring at the wall across the street
    as he waited for whatever threats the inspector percieved were coming
    to arrive. He fought the urge to scratch his nose and to blink when a
    federal car pulled up outside, admitting two people he assumed were agents.
    
    He misssed Ray, who had stayed at the council last night to talk with
    Eloise. She apparently had some ideas concerning his ghoulism. 
    
    He watched as the two agents came up to him. The scruffy looking one
    spoke. "Are you Constable Benton Fraser?" He seemed perturbed by the
    constable's silence. "Do you know a Detective Stanley Kowalski, AKA Elder
    Kowalski?" 
    
    Oh dear. Perhaps it best to keep silent. 
    
    After five minutes of questions and silence, the man seemed to catch
    the hint that Fraser either couldn't or wouldn't speak to him.  He shook
    his head in disgust and stomped into the consulate. His partner followed,
    suddenly giving him a glance. "I apologise, he can get...obsessive."
    
    ***
    
    Mulder entered the consulate, immiedately greeted by what appeared to
    be Canada's answer to Ronald McDonald. "Welcome to Canada, my name is
    Constable Renfield Turnbull. Can I help you?" 
    
    "Do you know Detective Stanley Kowalski?"
    
    "No." 
    
    "Great...." Mulder turned to leave.
    
    "I know a Detective Ray Kowalski." Turnbull frowned at the agent's sigh.
    
    Mulder glanced at his partner, as if to ask her why him. "Ok. Do you
    know if the detective has visited Canada recently?" 
    
    "Oh, yes! He visits quite often. Why, just the other day he was here
    to pick up Constable Fraser..." 
    
    "No!!" Mulder said, louder than he wanted. "I meant...the country." 
    
    "I understand.	This is Canada.  And Detective Kowalski is here often."
    
    The petite woman held up a photo for Turnbull to examine.  "Have you
    seen  this man lately?" 
     
    It was an old photo, back from when Ray was still blond.  He had tinted
    glasses on. 
     
    "Not lately," admitted Turnbull.  What color are his eyes here?"  
    
    "Blue," said the man, dismissing the sentence structure as a Canadian
    thing.  
    "I've not seen a man looking like that for several months," Turnbull
    declaired. 
     
    "Can you tell us anything about him?" 
     
    "Why, yes, I can.  He had blond hair, blue eyes, and he wears glasses."
    
    Curbing her impatience, the woman said, "Can you be more specific?" 
    
    "They look like Ray Bans, though it's a little hard to tell from this
    angle." 
     
    "About the man!" 
     
    The Seeker stepped in. Turnbull's eyes remained bland, but his voice
    lashed  out in a polite and ruthless manner.  "Is this an official Inquisition?
    I  assume the FBI has contacted my government and you have all the official
    documentation to allow you to conduct an Inquisition in Canada.  May
    I see  it to make copies for my superiors here and in Ottowa?" 
     
    Stonewalled.  The Inquisitors hesitated. 
     
    "Thank you for visiting Canada.  Is there any other way I can assist
    you?"  
    "No, thanks," grumbled the man.  "We were just leaving.  Thanks for the
    tour." 
     
    It wasn't until they were past the life-sized lawn jockey at the front
    that  the man realized they had never told Turnbull they were Inquisitors.
    
    ***
    
    He stared at his glasses through blurred vision, wondering why Zuko had
    picked red. It was a familiar shade too. Fraser's uniform. They matched
    the serge. He grinned. Cool. Who woulda thought Frank Zuko had a sense
    of humor?
     
    He slipped the glasses back on, opening the car door when he saw the
    vampires heading towards the car.  Daywalkers? He grabbed Dief's arm
    before the wolf could hop out. He could smell them from here. The scent
    was wrong. Poison. Sabbat. Where the hell did the Sabbat get Daywalkers?
    "Shit." He fumbled with his keys, shakily trying to get them back in
    the ignition when something leapt on the hood of the car. He jumped with
    a start and a yelp, and Dief was growling.   
    He went for his gun, only to be surprised from the side as the window
    shattered and hands grabbed him, pulling him out the window. He heard
    Dief yelling as the same happened to him.  
     
    "Freeze! FBI!" Someone shouted, /very/ loudly. They must be close. He
    felt a punch to his back and side and he was down. Dief's cries got farther
    and farther away, so at first he thought he was blacking out. 
     
    No such luck.  
     
    "Sir! Are you all right? Mulder, they got the kid." A woman's voice.
    
    No. No! He was being rolled over, holding his glasses on his face as
    if he were afraid they'd break again. He heard someone take in a breath.
    "Are you Stanley Kowalski?"  
    What? "What? No...Dief, they got Dief?" 
    
    "Who?" 
     
    He cast all caution to the wind.  "Sabbat Daywalkers, damnit, couldn't
    you  smell them?"  As he spoke he got his legs beneath him and tried
    to stand.   He would have fallen but for the the strange man's assistance.
    The woman  actually sniffed the air and nodded. 
     
    "Who's Dief?" she asked. 
     
    Ray was panting with fear and pain.  "My son," he growled defiantly,
    as if  daring anybody to contradict him. 
     
    The two FBI agents blinked in confusion and surprise.  Clearly their
    records  were...grossly inaccurate. 
     
    Ray fumbled for his cell phone and dialed with trembling hands, pulling
    out  of Mulder's grip to lean against the GTO. 
     
    "Turnbull!  Cut the shpiel!  They got Dief." 
     
    The two Inquisitors exchanged another look.  The whole sitution needed
    to be  re-evaluated. 
     
    "Like, two minutes ago.  Sabbat daywalkers.  Me either.  Where would
    they  go?" 
     
    A long pause. 
     
    "Okay.	Okay.  I'll see you there."  He shut the phone and stood there
    for a  moment, composing himself before he looked at the two Feds. 
     
    "Thanks.  Ray Kowalski." 
     
    "We thought it was Stanley," said the man with a wry half-smile.  
    
    "You thought wrong, pal." 
     
    "I'm Fox Mulder.  This is Dana Scully. You're a hard man to track down,
    Detective." 
     
    He nodded.  It was Scully's turn to comment, "Our records have you as
    being  blond." 
     
    "Vinyls are out, Inquisitor, try CD's.	What do you guys want with me?"
    
    "We need to talk to you about some events that recently occured in Canada."
    
    "The country or the consulate?" 
     
    "Both," muttered Mulder, Turnbull's conversation very clear now.  The
    man  was not the idiot he came across as being. 
     
    Ray pushed himself off the car, his body screaming in protest at the
    motion.    "I have to get across town.  You guys comin' or what?" 
     
     ***
    
    The werekid was carried into the inner sanctum, unconscious. He needed
    to be for the spellcasting to work correctly. Lilith took him from the
    daywalker's arms, placing him on the slab next to Lilith. He barely stirred.
    Even as she used a needle to remove the drops of blood she needed, he
    didn't stir. She smiled. She was very fortunate to have found someone
    like him. It made the spell simpler. The blood of a werewolf, and the
    soul of a child for the walker to use as a sort of energy source. 
    
    Perfect.
    
    ***
    
    Ray sat beside Fraser on the couch of the consulate, suddenly feeling
    very tired. Like part of him was being drained away, slowly but surely.
    He felt Fraser's arms go around him and smiled. "We'll find him, Ben.
    We will..." 
    
    "I know." Fraser's voice was low, soft. Barely audible. He was afraid.
    Ray was shocked to realise that. Fraser was afraid. He hugged Ben close,
    curling into him. He yawned. 
    
    "Are you all right, Detective?"  Mulder demanded. He still hadn't been
    able to wrangle any answers ou of anyone. Scully seemed eternally amused
    by this. 
    
    "I'm a little tired," Ray admitted. Turnbull looked up, sharply. "Tired
    how?" 
    
    "Sleepy tired. Why?"
    
    Turnbull looked worried. He kneeled down, looking Ray in the eyes. "Are
    you in any pain? Anything at all?" 
    
    "My arms'a bit sore."
    
    Turnbull put his fingers to Ray's throat, feeling his pulse.  He looked
    to  Fraser. 
     
    "Diefenbaker." 
     
    "Hmm?" wondered Ray, slumping against Fraser. He felt so tired. So damned
    tired.  
    "Where is he?" whispered the Slayer to the Seeker. 
     
    Turnbull shook his head.  "Warfield can't locate them.	Neither can Caine.
    We have to wait." 
     
    "What will they do to Dief?" 
     
    Scully and Mulder were listening intently, not understanding everything
    but  aware that this was important. Turnbull bit his lip. 
     
    "He is the energy source for the Ressurection of Dead Vitae."
     
    "What about Ray?" 
     
    "He's linked to Diefenbaker.  I don't know." 
     
    *** 
     
    She awoke to...feeling.  Except for those few stolen moments in the body
    of  another, she had not /felt/ anything beyond emotion for over three
    years  now. To feel fabric slide over her skin, the cool, damp air, her
    hair  brushing her face and neck.  What was this?  What had happened?
    Had she  somehow broken her word to Ray, posessed him again? No, because
    he hadn't felt like this.  She felt like...herself.  
    What was happening? 
     
    Better still, what /had/ happened? 
     
    Voices.  She recognized the man's tones: Calhoun.  How did she come to
    be  here?  Putting aside her own confusion, she listened.  They were
    discussing...a werewolf?  Diefenbaker? He was the only one she knew.
    As  well as the dead can know anyone. 
    
    She opened her eyes, slowly and reacted to the bright lights of the room.
    After a moment she realised that they weren't really that bright, it
    was just her eyes weren't used to them. 
    
    Why? 
    
    She heard the slow, steady breathing of a child beside her, and looked
    to the side. The blurred figure was Dief. "Oh no..." She closed her eyes.
    What've they done? 
    
    *** 
    
    Calhoun stared at Lilith, disbelieving. "You want me to let him go."
    
    "Yes." She smiled, eerily and came towards him. "Think about it. What
    better pain for him than to watch his child die." It was devious. Cruel.
    It was Lilith. 
    
    Calhoun nodded, picking up the unconscious child. "Where?" 
    
    She thought for a moment, then smiled again. "Take him to where that
    one died." 
    
    "Zuko. You want me to take him to Zuko?" He was questioning her, he knew,
    but it seemed foolhardy. 
    
    She smiled. "Don't get caught."
    
    *** 
    
    Ray moaned in his half sleep, curling his fingers into the knees of Fraser's
    pants. He was shaking, he could feel the energy being sapped from him,
    slowly. He could feel hands stroking his hair, a voice trying to calm
    him. Nothing worked. His world was pain and weakness and cloudy images.
    A gentle voice, just a few words.  Irene? 
    
    With the exception of Kowalski, they all looked up when Inspector Thatcher
    entered the consulate.  Fraser wanted to cringe but didn't.  He had a
    long way to go and weeks of sentry duty to stand before he could expect
    any forgiveness.  She glowered at the sight of Kowalski, whom she had
    never liked, and if it hadn't been after hours, she would have been furious
    at his presence.  What was he doing?  Sleeping in the foyer of the consulate?
    On top of Fraser, no less.  And who were these other Americans? 
    
    "Constable." 
    
    "Sir?" 
    
    "What is the meaning of all this?" 
    
    Before Fraser could open his mouth, Mulder pounced, turning on the charm
    full-force.  "Excuse me, ma'am, I'm Inquisitor Fox Mulder and this is
    Inquisitor Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of Inquisition.  We're
    here to investigate several unusual occourances, both in the United States
    and Canada, that have been brought to our attention.  May we ask you
    a few questions?" 
    
    The Inspector looked from the gaping Turnbull to the stoney-faced Fraser,
    then quickly away from that riot of purple hair that clashed with the
    serge.  /Where was the wolf?/ she wondered.  Slowly, sensing the tension
    radiating off her two constables, she nodded. 
    
    "My office is this way." 
    
    Turnbull let out a loud sigh when they filed down the hall, then turned
    to Fraser. 
    
    "Shall we go?" 
    
    "Where?" 
    
    "Away from them." 
    
    *** 
    
    Ray Vecchio leaned his aching head on his hands that he had folded atop
    the steering wheel of his car.  Beside him, Frank Zuko was silent.  All
    their efforts had been in vain.  They were no closer to finding Lilith's
    location than they'd been since yesterday.  He sighed.  At least they'd
    managed to put aside their dislike for eachother for a day.  It was sad,
    really.  He'd missed Frank.  Or, rather, he missed the man Frank had
    been. 
    
    "Take me back to Prince Warfield's," ordered Zuko, his voice flat. 
    
    Ray nodded, feeling just as stressed as the vampire beside him, and started
    up the engine. 
    
    "Wait." Zuko let out a breath he didn't need. "Home. I need to go home."
    
    "Why?" 
    
    "There..." Zuko paused. "There was something Irene wanted me to give
    you. It's there." 
    
    Vecchio looked at him, oddly. "I think it can wait." 
    
    "No." Zuko shook his head, closing his eyes. "No, it can't." 
    
    *** 
    
    Even before they opened the front door, Zuko knew there was something
    seriously wrong at his own house. He could smell them.  They had dared
    to enter his home. 
    
    They found him almost immiediately, lying on the top step, the one that
    Irene had been shot at. He was unconscious, barely breathing. The breaths
    that were coming were wheezing and scared Vecchio half to death. He knelt
    beside the fallen wolf, feeling his pulse. "Dief?" 
    
     Zuko dialed his cell phone, talking quickly in Italian.  Then he knelt
    beside Vecchio, his voice a dangerous growl.  "Better find Kowalski.
    If they got the wolf this bad it's going to hit him like a ton of bricks."
    
    "Get an ambulance!" ordered Vecchio. 
    
    The vampire Elder snorted.  "Hospitals won't help him, Ray.  Come on!
    We've got to get to Lord Caine." 
        
    *** 
    
    Fraser stared down at Ray, alarmed. "Ray?" The detective's breathing
    had gotten very shallow, but very loud. He sounded as if he were hyperventilating.
    "Turnbull!  He can barely breath!"  
    
    The GTO, cold and windy, sped up automaticly.  "Hospital or Caine?" demanded
    the Seeker above the roar of engine and speed. 
    
    Fraser hesitated, frightened beyond words of making the wrong decision,
    staring at the man that lay across his lap in the back seat of the car.
    "Caine.  Get us there now!" 
    
    /And traffic laws be damned/ thought both constables. 
    
    *** 
    
    She kept them for almost an hour, talking a lot but saying little.  By
    the time Mulder and Scully escaped Thatcher's office, their only accomplishment
    was a picture even more confused than before.  Thatcher had provided
    a lot of background and details about a succubus that had blown up the
    old consulate building and a blood hunt that had gone down in the temporary
    one, but nothing actually useful. 
    
    "They got away," grumbled Mulder, eyeing the deserted foyer. 
    
    Scully shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ears again as she
    followed him out the door.  "Where next?" 
    
    "Well, according to the guys in the Bureau, Kowalski is an Elder.  That
    means he has to have a clan.  One of them is a resident at Cook County
    ER.  We could try to find her." 
    
    "A vampire doctor?"
    
    "She works nights, apparently." 
    
    They stopped at the corner, looking at their car.  Two teenagers were
    hanging out /on/ their car.  A boy and girl, sitting Indian-style on
    the roof of government property. 
    
    "Now what?" wondered Scully quietly. 
    
    "Can I help you?" Mulder asked the boy.  He was Asian and seemed bent
    on filling every sterotype associated with geeky college students, all
    the way down to the glasses and pocket full of pens.  He smiled wisely
    at Mulder's bland tone and let his companion speak.  The girl was a bit
    plump, with curling brown locks and freckles scattered across her cheeks.
    She spoke with an accent neither Inquisitor could place and her tone
    was matter-of-fact and straight down to business as she saw it. 
    
    "No.  It may be that we can help you, Inquisitor." 
    
    *** 
    
    They arrived at the same time, Fraser carrying Ray into the building
    in a fireman's carry with Turnbull close behind. Vecchio carrying Dief
    and being followed by Zuko. they stared at each other for a moment, shocked.
    "Caine." They said, simultaneously, and  entered the building in a run.
    
    Caine was waiting for them with Warfield and Eloise by his side. He looked
    distressed, and helped them get the unconscious duo to a bed. He knelt
    beside his son, and then beside the wolf, examing them each in turn.
    
    "Foolhardy of her," he whispered. 
    
    "What was?" Vecchio demanded, not sure what the hell was going on. 
    
    Caine looked up, "She's used the wolf as both elements in the spell.
    His energy is being used as a sort of battery for Ms. Zuko." He brushed
    the hair from Ray's face, gently. "I believe my son can feel it..." 
    
    ***
    
    Irene lay on the slab, staring at the woman watching her. "What're you
    going to do?" 
    
    "Nothing. We're going to let you go."
    
    Irene was taken aback. "But why?" There had to be a catch. There had
    to be. 
    
    "Because no matter what happens, I've won this battle." 
    
    "I don't understand," whispered Irene. 
    
    The dark-haired woman smirked.  "That doesn't matter.  All that matters
    is I've won and they know it." 
    
    "Are you Lilith?  You're different." 
    
    "Only my face.  Now go away, little girl.  Run home." 
        
    *** 
    
    "...abducted by aliens?" echoed Mulder.  "At what age?" 
    
    "Ten," said Jay evenly. 
    
    Scully rolled her eyes.  This case has started out hopeless and now it
    was doomed. 
    
    "Do you have any particulars about the abduction?" 
    
    Lucia didn't bat an eye.  "What would you like to know?" 
    
    *** 
    
    "No kidding," snapped Vecchio, earning him glares from almost everyone
    in the room.  The glares redoubled when his cell phone rang. Ignoring
    them, he opened it.  "Vecchio." 
    
    "Ray?" said a trembling voice. 
    
    He gasped, unable to speak.  He could feel the blood drain out of his
    face as faintness swept upon him.  Zuko turned, as did Fraser, eyes wide
    as both men figured out the truth. 
    
    Breathed Vecchio, "I-Irene." 
    
    His hand shook as she spoke, telling him where she was begging him to
    come and get her. No. This couldn't be. It wasn't right that they would
    do this to her. "Irene..." He felt Caine's hand on his shoulder and looked
    up. "I love you..." He barely heard her reply as Caine took the phone.
    
    "Where are you, child?" Caine whispered into the phone, keeping his eyes
    on Ray. "Are you close?" 
    
    As Fraser listened to Caine talk with Irene, he watched Ray and Dief.
    They looked so cold, so weak. So....gone. He brushed Ray's hair back,
    keeping his other hand clutching at Dief's. He couldn't lose them. He'd
    die if he did. 
    
    ***
    
    He was floating and it was so cold he was sure he was shaking. Everything
    hurt, everything wanted to remove it's self. He hated this. He could
    feel Dief next to him, could feel Fraser above him, but he couldn't /move/.
    
    /You're in trouble now, Yank/
    
    Dad was back to haunt him.  Ray glared with his subconscious.  //Yer
    a master of the obvious, Canada,  Tell me something I don't know.// 
    
    /Lilith won this round./ 
    
    Ray snorted at the ghostly image of the dead Mountie.  //You always give
    up this easy?// 
    
    /I'm not the one giving up.  You know, Kowalski, this isn't always about
    victory.  Winning and just not losing are two unrelated things. You're
    a cop.  You know all about that./ 
    
    //Too much.// 
    
    /So, now you've got to figure out some way to turn her winning into you
    not losing./ 
    
    //How?  I con't even know what's happening here!// 
    
    /Pay attention./ 
    
    //Thanks, Fraser.  Go bother yer kid, why dontcha?// 
    
    *** 
    
    Fraser didn't notice at what point Zuko and Vecchio left the room.  He
    never looked away from his two best friends where they lay pale and cold
    in the dark bed.  No matter what the outcome, there would be casualties
    this time.  They had been fortunate so far.  No more. 
    
    "Lord Caine?" he called.  "Turnbull?" 
    
    Ancient and Seeker both responded. 
    
    "Slayer?' 
    
    "Sir!" 
    
    Fraser swallowed.  His throat was dry.  "I understand what Lilith has
    done.  What I need to know is if there is any way to save Ray and Dief?"
    
    Both men looked pained. Turnbull spoke, his simple words lacerating to
    the bone. 
    
    "Not as long as Irene Zuko is alive.  Her life is quite literally theirs."
    
    "Can't we - there must be...something," Fraser heard himself stammer.
    He broke off, uncertain and afraid until he felt Caine lift his chin.
    
    "Know, soul of my childe, the darkness and shadows shall not take him
    from us.  He is my prince and he is precious to me.  There is no price
    I would not pay for my son." 
    
    Fraser pursedhis lips, unwilling to speak lest his voice betray him.
    It was several minutes before he could talk. 
    
    "What about Irene?" 
    
    Turnbull grimaced.  "Her soul...having died once..." 
    
    "She will be damned," Caine finished sadly. 
    
    The cruel injustice stunned the Mountie.  "But...she didn't /do/ anything!"
    
    "Hence the Dark Mother's triumph." 
    
    "But Eve wasn't damned!" 
    
    "No," agreed Caine.  "Lilith took her punishment instead." 
    
    Fraser suddenly understood. "She took it out on you."
    
    "On my entire family." caine smiled, bitterly. "You might say she brought
    a pox on us all." 
    
    ***
    
    /Kowalski./ The voice was filled with the sounds of exploding cars and
    screaming detectives. 
    
    Louis. Again. He didn't even want to know how it was possible. //Louis....//
    
    /You're letting her win./
    
    ///I don't know how to stop her///
    
    /You know. You're afraid. If Dief dies, you'll follow soon after.../
    
    //I gotta keep him alive...How?/// A cold intake of breath. //Show me...//
    
    /Push him away./
    
    ***
    
    An intake of breath from the tiny form of the were kid. Fraser looked
    up as Dief's eyes fluttered, weakly. "Dief." He looked at Caine, stunned.
    Had Lilith let them go? 
    
    No. He didn't understand it. Not at all.
    
    Ray wasn't waking up. If anything he looked worse than ever. Caine looked
    troubled by this. 
    
    "This is...his doing.  What is he doing?" 
    
    "Dief?" called Fraser.  "Dief?" 
    
    The golden eyes opened and focused on Fraser's anxious face.  With a
    small growl, dief reached for Fraser's hand.  Ecstatic, Fraser hugged
    him tightly, joy replacing fear for a moment. 
    
    Suddenly Caine was on his feet, dragging Fraser and the werewolf away.
    "Seperate them!" he ordered.  "Remove him, Slayer!" 
    
    Fraser whirled, stricken and pale.  "Ray?  Is it Ray?" 
    
    *** 
    
    "Oh, my god." 
    
    She stood in the wane light of diner's neon sign, shivering in the cold
    and hugging herself tightly.  Irene.  Even cold and dirty, she was beautiful.
    Ray Vecchio felt his heart stop.  His voice was gone.  He had no command
    over himself as he sat and stared at the woman who had filled his fantasies
    and dreams for three years now. 
    
    Suddenly Frank bolted out the door.  He snatched Irene up into his embrace
    and held her as if he would never let go.  Trembling, confused, overjoyed
    to see her brother again, Irene wrapped her slim arms around him. 
    
    And Ray Vecchio, watching from his car, wept anew. 
    
    ***
    
    Lilith smiled, sitting in front of her Autarkis. "He's broken the link
    with the wolf child. She's feeding directly off of him now." 
    
    "Is that good?"
    
    "Very good."
    
    ***
    
    Fraser sat in Warfield's office, clutching Dief and shaking as he waited
    for Caine. The oldest vampire entered, looking solemn. "He's not..."
    
    "No. Not yet..." Caine looked distressed again, carressed Dief's face.
    "He severed the link between himself and his son. In order to save him.
    But it's killing him." 
    
    "Oh God. Is there anything we can do?" 
    
    "If he is to live, Irene Zuko must die. Or vice versa."
    
    "I can't...."
    
    "I know."
    
    "What about Ray?  and Frank?" 
    
    "Elder Zuko knows what must happen.  So, too, does your friend, I believe.
    He will not want to accept that fate, though." 
    
    Diefenbaker whined, confused over his own recent memories and his human's
    snect of fear and grief.  He wanted his other human, as well, the one
    who was almost as good as a werewolf. 
    
    Fraser bit back his emotions and stroked Dief's spikey hair.  So much
    like Ray.  Dief looked so much like Ray. 
    
    Caine stood and reached for Diefenbaker's hand.  "I will tend to your
    child, Slayer.  Tend to mine." 
    
    *** 
    
    Zuko finally drove, bitching about stone-age cars and the wonders of
    the BMW that he would not experience until his own vehicle got back from
    the body shop, thank you Vecchio.  Ray ignored him.  His focus was totally
    on Irene and trying to calm her fears.  She was wrapped in his coat against
    the chill of the spring night and they spoke quietly of what happened.
    Finally she curled her feet beneath her and leaned against Ray. 
    
    Frank glanced up, but there was no rear-view mirror.  /Piece of junk
    Buick...Better not try anything with my sister, Ray./ 
    
    Ray caught the glance up and chose to ignore it. He pulled Irene closer
    trying to warm her up. Rubbing his hands up and down her arms. 
    
    "What'd they to do the wolf, Ray?" She begged, nearly crying again. "Is
    he all right? 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser sat back down next to Ray, brushing his fingers against the American's
    face. "Ray? His skin was so cold, so lax. Instinctively, Ray pressed
    his cheek against the hand touching him. Fraser smiled, "Ray, please
    open your eyes. I know you can hear me. Please open your eyes." 
    
    A rapid flutter as Ray tried to, or seemed to try very hard. They wouldn't
    stay open. Fraser curled up on the bed, hugging Ray close. "Come on....Just
    for a moment. Open your eyes." 
    
    Nothing. If anything, Ray seemed to withdraw further. Fraser suddenly
    found himself lost. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to lose
    Ray, and he didn't want Irene to die. "Ray..." 
    
    ***
    
    He could hear Fraser calling him and tried to answer. Nothing came out.
    He couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes and couldn't talk. He was so
    tired. So cold and so tired. He just wanted to rest. 
    
    /Yank. No../
    
    //...can't...// 
    
    /You have to!  Don't let Lilith win!  You let go now, you'll go over.
    You've got enough vampire blood in you to convert a small country and
    the only thing that's kept it at bay is the fact that Caine gave you
    a choice.  Stick by your decision, Yankee!/ 
    
    //What about...Irene?// 
    
    /What happened to her is a tragedy.  But I'm not going to stand here
    and let Lilith kill my son.  Or you.  There's too much that you need
    to do before all this is over./ 
    
    //Fraser?// 
    
    /What?/ 
    
    //Fraser?// 
    
    /Oh.  Sorry.  Wrong one./ 
    
    His eyes felt as heavy as the whole world, but he had to, no, he /needed/
    to see his Mountie right now. 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    He sounded so far away. 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    //God, I love you, Benton Fraser.// 
    
    "Ray, please stay with me." 
    
    He was frightened.  Ray could hear it in his voice. 
    
    "Don't leave me." 
    
    //Never.// 
    
    /That's the spirit, Yank./ 
    
    "Ray. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, and you'll be all right."
    
    Was it that simple? He tried, he tried hard to open the eyelids. They
    fluttered, but wouldn't go. He tried again. A tiny crack of light. 
    
    /That's it.../
    
    "Yes. A little more."
    
    The felt something squeeze his hand and he managed to pull them open.
    A blurred flash of red  serge and he was happy. "Ray? Can you hear me?
    Can you speak?" 
    
    No. That was too much. He couldn't. Everything shut down againAnd this
    time it hurt. 
    
    Fraser shook as he watched Ray seem to come around and then fall again.
    He covered his eyes with one hand and felt Caine's hands on his shoulders.
    "He'll be all right. Irene will not let us down." 
    
    "Where is Turnbull?" 
    
    "The Seeker is speaking to Eloise.  Mina has arrived.  She said Jay and
    Lucia are keeping the Inquisitors busy." 
    
    "They are?" 
    
    "Apparently they were here earlier, but found no answers to the questions
    they asked.  Or, perhaps, too many answers for so few questions."  Caine
    seemed amused at all their efforts to throw the FBI off their trail.
    
    "The Clan of the Rose is famous for such things."  Fraser looked up at
    the old vampire.  "Irene has to die, doesn't she?" 
    
    "Her body must.  She is as a parasite to him now." 
    
    "Her body?" 
    
    "It is her soul I would sooner save from a fate like the Dark Mother's."
    
    "Understood.  What can be done?" 
    
    "We have several choices.  But let us deal with that moment when it comes.
    They are back now with her." 
    
    "I'll go-" 
    
    "No, child.  Remain with him.  Do not let him go.  His is a stronger
    will than he knows, but you are the spring from which that strength flows.
    Be near him." 
    
    Fraser blinked at this revealation, awed.  What had Caine called him
    before?  Soul of my Childe?  Is that how Ray saw him? 
    
    "Fraser..." Ray's voice was hoarse, his eyes still closed tightly. He
    could barely move. He felt Fraser's fingers in his hair and sighed. That
    little bit of contact was calming. Made him happy.  Kept him warm. It
    was so good to be loved. 
    
    "Dief...ok?" He rasped.
    
    "He will be. How do you feel?" 
    
    "Not good,,," 
    
    Fraser nodded, curling himself around the detective protectively. "Rest.
    Everything will be fine."  He pressed his lips to Ray's cold forehead,
    then rested his head against Ray's.  
    
    Soul of my Childe. 
    
    How right he was. 
        
    *** 
    
    They sat in the council room again, Turnbull, Mina, Warfield, Zuko, Vecchio,
    Irene.  Their faces were uniformly grim, Zuko looking particularly unhappy,
    knowing what he did.  Beneath the table, Mina's hand sought Turnbull's
    and he squeezed it gently, trying his best to reassure her.  
    "We need someone powerful enough to harbor the spirit," Caine stated,
    looking at Zuko. "A demon. Someone we can trust."  
    
    The elder snorted.  "That's a pretty tall order.  A demon we can trust?
    That's not a vampire already?  How about a gargoyle?"      
    Asked the Seeker, "What sort of demon?" 
        
    "A pure born would be best.  They're almost impossible to corrupt from
    their callings." 
    
    Vecchio thought, clutching Irene's hand tightly. He couldn't believe
    he was about to suggest this.  "A vengence demon?" 
    
    "Stella Kowalski?" Zuko snickered, incredulous. "You're kidding."  
    
    Everyone, even Caine, stirred a bit.  The Stella was not well-liked here
    in the Giovanni camp. 
    
    He drew a deep breath.  "I know what you're all thinking.  But Stella
    /is/ true to her calling.  All the way down to trying to drive Stan nuts
    even though they've been divorced almost four years now." 
    
    "that's a lot to ask of anyone, Ray," Irene said softly.  "Bad enough
    I hurt Diefenbaker.  We...we can't ask her to do this." 
    
    "Why not?" growled Ray. 
    
    "What effect would it have on Madame Kowalski?" wondered Turnbull. 
    
    Warfield shifted in his chair.  "She /might/ be likeable." 
    
    "She would become as you, Son of Rachel.  One in being, two in soul."
    
    Turnbull squirmed at this revealation from Caine.  It was not something
    he was comfortable discussing.  "My lord, this is what I am.  We are
    connected.  And I need Renfield more than he needs me." 
    
    The Mounted Slayer frowned, seemingly at himself, and in a softer voice
    said, "That's not true, Seeker.  We're a good match." 
    
    Warfield smiled a bit.  This was the first time he'd met the Constable.
    All his dealings to date had been with the Seeker. 
    
    "We have a common goal," Turnbull was explaining.  "I was born this way.
    Madame Kowalski may not be willing to share what she is." 
    
    Vecchio looked down at Irene's hand in his.  God, this was not fair.
    
    Irene swallowed. "We have to ask. For Dief...."
    
    "Not for Dief." Caine shook his head, moving towards the doorway. "For
    my son." 
    
    Irene nearly choked. "Wh-what?"
    
    "He took his son's place. You're feeding off of him now."
    
    "No." She shook her head, squeezing Vecchio's hand tightly. He closed
    his eyes, bringing her hand to his lips. "No, that's not fair. He's been
    through too much, it'll kill him." 
    
    "Which is why we must work fast. Prince Warfield."
    
    "Yes, My Lord?"
    
    "Contact Ms. Kowalski."
    
    ***"
    
    "Kowalski.  And it'd better be good because it's late, pal." 
    
    "Madame Kowalski?  Prince Warfield." 
    
    "What can I do for you, Prince Warfield?  And how did you get my private
    number?" 
    
    "It was dialed for me, Madame, so fear not, I won't be calling again.
    I have a proposition for you." 
    
    "For me?  A Giovanni Prince is propositioning a full-time vengance demon.
    That's rich.  Is it even vaguely on the up-and-up?" 
    
    "That depends on your definition, Madame." 
    
    "What is it?" 
    
    "It would be easier to explain in person." 
    
    A long sigh.  "I'll get there when I get there." 
    
     *** 
    
    What is it you wanted to say to me, Prince Warfield?" demanded Stella
    an hour later, striding into the council room as if she owned it.  A
    step behind her, Marco glared but Warfield waved the get off. 
    
    "This way, Madame Kowalski.  I thank you for coming so promptly.  This
    is a matter of extreme importance to us all." 
    
    "All of us, or us vampires?" 
    
    "All of us, Madame.  All of us." 
    
    He walked her out of the room and through the richly furnished suites
    to another door. 
    
    "In here is part of what you need to see.  Marco will be waiting for
    you when you're done." 
        
    She entered the room.  It was a bedroom with a canopied bed and dark,
    heavy furniture.  She looked about, then spotted a familiar shade of
    red on the bed.  Moving towards it, she was surprised to see Ray stretched
    out next to the Slayer.  Her ex-husband was awake and Fraser asleep.
    The Slayer looked exhausted, withdrawn. Ray's eyes were halfway closed,
    staring blurrily at the ceiing as he clutched at Fraser's hand. They
    looked at peace with each other. In love. 
    
    Oh. 
    
    She cleared her throat, annoyed at Warfield and whatever game he was
    up to, when black eyes shifted towards her. "Ray." 
    
    "Stella...." His voice sounded wrong. It was too hoarse. He sounded worse
    than when she'd sent him to hell for staring at that Amazonian looking
    woman in front of St. Fortunata's School for Teen Witches.  "What're
    you doin' here?" 
    
    "Prince Warfield called me." 
    
    "Oh." He winced in pain. He could feel the flash coming, and was trying
    to hold it at bay. He didnt want Stella to see. Didn't want her to know.
    It never paid to be weak before her kind. 
    
    Too late. 
    
    It started in his hands of all places. A deep shuddering convulsion that
    spread upward then downward. Screaming. Was it him? His whole body aching,
    everything shaking. Squeezing Fraser's hand to the breaking point. 
    
    The worse part was he couldn't even see what he was supposed to see.
    Everything was a blur. The flashes were /too/ fast. They faster they
    sped the more it hurt. He could feel blood on his face, and he knew,
    he just knew it wasn 't all coming from his nose. 
    
    He couldn't breathe, when he tried it was as if he were choking through
    cheesecloth. He could feel hands on him, trying to calm him, shaking
    him and soothing him at once. Nothing worked. Everything sped up and
    his screams got louder. The shaking got worse. He felt as if his bones
    were rattling. The bed was banging against the wall. 
    
    And still it went on. 
     
    *** 
    
    Fraser woke the instant Stella entered the room.  Curiosity as to what
    she wanted got the better of him and he lay still, keeping his breathing
    even as if he was still asleep.  He heard the odd tremor in Ray's voice
    and instantly knew something was horribly wrong. 
    
    /Oh, god, not now!  He can't take this now!/ 
    
    Ray's hand almost crushed his fingers as the screams of pain started.
    Screaming, screaming, never to stop, it seemed.  Fraser pulled the American
    to him, ignoring Stella's look of revulsion.  Blood was pouring from
    his nose, his ears.  His gums were bleeding, even, and he wept bloody
    tears.  In some room removed from here, he heard Diefenbaker howling
    in agony. 
    
    "Get Caine!"  he screamed at Stella.  She was tied to the spot.  "Get
    Cai-Lord Aja!  Get him!  Get Turnbull, for God's sake!" 
    
    She was horrorfied. Ray convulsed, yanking out of Fraser's hold.  The
    Mountie struggled desperately to keep his lover from further harm. 
    
    "What's-what's wrong with him?" she demanded. 
    
    "Aja!"  screamed Fraser.  "Caine!" 
    
    The door slammed open and Turnbull shoved Stella aside as he rushed to
    help his superior.  Then the man she'd called Aja and the get Mina. 
    They clustered around the bed in a controlled state of panic.  A moment
    later, Diefenbaker came in.  He was a wolf, and he growled at Stella
    savagely. 
    
    "Get him out!" Cried Fraser.  "Marco, get him out of here!"
    
    The get grabbed the wolf, leading the growling creature out. Mina went
    straight for Ray, opening the box of medical supplies she'd managed to
    snag from the hospital. "Hold him," she ordered Fraser, suddenly calm.
    She filled a syringe, then found the vein in her elder's arm. 
    
    Slowly, the convulsions stopped, .leaving a trembling, cold, and tortured
    man in their wake. Fraser brushed the almost bloody hair out of Ray's
    face. His own hands shook with fear. What had Ray seen? What had been
    that horrible?  He ran his hand down Ray's body, trying to calm him.
    
    "I'm right here.  I have you, Ray.  You're safe.  I'm here.  Sleep, Ray.
    Just sleep.  I'll be here.  You're safe."  He whispered continuosly,
    knowing Ray would react to his voice, not his words. 
    
    The ghoulite was now unconscious again, thankfully, as Mina began to
    clean him up. She got the ng tubes down his nose, and started a saline
    IV. "If it happens again, Slayer...we may have to intubate him..." 
    
    Turnbull almost passed out right on the spot.
    
    All the while, Stella stared at him in horror. They'd called her to see
    this? She'd done this to him. This was her fault. He was dying, and it
    was her fault. Fraser looked up and met her eyes and the storm that raged
    behind the blueness was frightening to her.  She'd been hated and despised
    before, it was part of what she was.  But the look Benton Fraser gave
    her was enough to chill her to the bone and make her step back.  She
    felt a hand on her arm and looked up.  
    
    Warfield.  He was staring at her with an intensity only the undead posessed.
    
    "I did that to him," she whispered. 
    
    The vampire nodded.  "Yes, you did." 
    
    She looked down, distressed.  "I...I had no idea.  Usually these things
    are one-shot deals.  Like I did to Ray.  Ray Vecchio, I mean." 
    
    "Causing his car to crash, Madame, and triggering a flash in Prince Kowalski."
    
    She sighed quietly, feeling too guilty for words.  It was a rare sensation
    for her. 
    
    "What else did you want to show me?" 
    
    "Come with me." 
    
    *** 
    
    When the screaming started, Mina, Turnbull, and Caine had bolted out
    of the room, leaving Ray and Irene to deal with Frank.  The Giovanni
    let out a cry and staggered to his knees, gripping his head as pain swept
    over him.  Damn that Kowalski!  Why the hell did Frank have to be linked
    with that stupid little Polack? 
    
    The images were too fast and furious for Zuko to process now.  With the
    help of his sister and his one-time friend, he made it to his own suite
    and just lay down to rest, hoping this was not destined to become a regular
    occourance.  He sighed, vainly wishing Irene had never been involved,
    blaming himself anew for her inevitable, second death. 
    
    Ray was studying Irene as she helped her brother to lie down.  He waited
    outside the door for a few minutes until she reappeared, closing the
    door softly behind her. 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    "Yeah?" 
    
    "I...I'm frightened." 
    
    "So am I." 
    
    "Ray...Stan...he...he shouldn't have to go through this." 
    
    "Neither should you." 
    
    "Why is she doing this?  What does she hope to gain?" 
    
    "She's insane.  All she wants to do is hurt us and Caine." 
    
    "I...I don't want to die again, Ray."  Her lips were trembling and tears
    threatened to spill down her cheeks.  He was at her side in an instant,
    then enfolding her in his embrace. 
    
    "Shh," he soothed, rocking her.  "Shh.  We'll figure something out. 
    It's not over yet, Irene." 
    
    She clung to him, seeking his warmth, letting herself move with his hold.
    Frank's rooms were nearer to the bar that was the front of Warfield's
    headquarters and soft music drifted down the hall.  They swayed to the
    beat, both of them trying to lose themselves in the moment, all thoughts
    of the future banished. 
    
    Ray moved first, reaching down to lift her arm and lock his fingers through
    hers. 
    
    "Dance with me?" 
    
    She smiled, nodding once. They went into each other's arms, quickly,
    slowly losing themselves in each other and the music. 
    
    *** 
    
    She followed Warfield down the hallway, barely listening to his insane
    plan. Share her body and mind with Zuko's dead sister that wasn't dead
    at this particular moment in time but needed to be soon?  She needed
    to see Ray. Her Ray. He would help her make the decision, he'd know what
    to do. All she knew was that this way killing Ray, and it was her fault.
    
    She froze when she saw them. Vecchio and a woman she could only assume
    was Irene. Dancing very close together. There was a light in his eyes
    she had never seen directed at her.  A deeper love than what he held
    for her.  She'd seen that light in Stan's eyes but had chosen to ignor
    it at the time.  She had been busy or tired or too damned self-centered
    to pay it much heed or give it the nurturing it needed to survive.  She
    closed her eyes, realizing she envied this woman she'd never met.  To
    have the love of such a man...She'd been right. He did know what to do.
    And now so did she.  She'd been a fool once.  Not again. 
    
    "I'll do it..." she whispered, squeezing her eyes tighter. She didn't
    want to see. No matter how she acted, she did love him. No matter what.
    
    *** 
    
    Ray was curled into his arms as if seeking warmth, and Fraser strived
    to give that warmth to him. Ray's skin was so cold, so clammy. He didn't
    know what to do anymore. He prayed Stella would do whatever they had
    asked of her. If it would help Ray.... 
    
    A muffled moan and half sob. Ray was coming around again. Or trying to.
    
    "Canada....no." Ray's voice was filled with so much pain, so much fear.
    He sounded fluidic, like he's swallowed too much pond water. 
    
    "Canada?" Fraser whispered, perplexed. 
    
    "Don't....don't hurt her...." 
    
    "Is it Irene? Ray, do you see Irene?" 
    
    *** 
    
    Mina looked at Turnbull, finally afraid.  The Constable was seated on
    the floor outside the bedroom, an ammonia capsule in hand.  "What will
    happen if Elder...Ray dies? Will he go over?" 
    
    He shook his head, in Seeker Mode. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't..."
    
    She curled up next to him and he put his arm around her, drawing her
    close. 
    
    "Renfield?" 
    
    "Yes?" 
    
    "I'm so glad Elder Calhoun entrusted us to Ray.  I would not want to
    be part of his plans." 
    
    "I'm glad, too, Mina.  I...that is...you..." 
    
    She put a finger to his lips.  "I know." 
    
    *** 
    
    "Frase...er...Fraser, don't...please..." 
    
    "Ray, what don't you want me to do?" 
    
    "Don't..." 
    
    "Ray."  The mountie gently smoothed the american's face, barely noticing
    the blond stibble on his cheeks.  God, how much weight had Ray lost?
    "Ray, tell me.  Is it Irene?  I wouldn't hurt her." 
    
    "N-not...you!"  The words were quietly screamed.  "Not you.  Dad." 
    
    Fraser went cold.  "What?" 
    
    "C-Canada.  Dad.  Kill...I-" 
    
    "My father is going to kill Irene?" 
    
    "Kill...save...me..." 
    
    "No." 
    
    "Stop." 
    
    "Oh,my god!  Irene!" 
    
    ***
    
    The music slowed and finally stopped.  Gradually, so did Ray and Irene,
    though they did not move apart or let go their embrace.  Again, it was
    Ray who moved first, reaching down to lift her chin.  He gazed into those
    gentle brown eyes, trying to convince himself it would be alright...everything
    would work out... 
    
    He kissed her tenderly, aware that she was silently weeping.  So was
    he. 
    
    Stella and Warfield withdrew.  Not for anything could they disturb that
    moment. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Lord Aja, how do we..." 
     
    "Are you willing to do this, Daughter of Al?" 
    
    Stella nodded.  She had not been reminded of her heritage for many years.
    "Yes.  I'm ready." 
    
     Stella took Caine's hands in hers, concentrating on Irene. Together
    they pictured her in their mind, pulling her spirit towards them. Towards
    Stella. Into Stella. She could feel the spell begin to work even as Vecchio
    and Irene still stood in the hallway. 
    
    Stella's heart felt suddenly full as they heard Irene's scream. They
    worked quicker. 
    
    *** 
     
    Fraser scrambled out of the bed, barreling for the door.  He almost tripped
    over Turnbull and Mina as he ran for the council room.  
    
    "Irene!  Dad, no!" 
    
    *** 
    
    Irene felt the ghostly bullet and doubled over in pain. Vecchio held
    her up, screaming for help in a scene that he had lived and relived for
    years coming to life again. Scant moments later, Fraser was in the hallway
    followed by Mina and Turnbull. Fraser gaped, the looked around in horror.
    "No...God No...."  
    
    Frank yanked open the door to his room, saw Fraser, then he heard Ray.
    
    "Irene?" He held her up as she began to die.  "No...please.  Oh, god.
    Oh...god."  
    
    She was gone.  
    
    Frank Zuko let out a strangled moan, sliding to the floor opposite Ray.
    
    "Dad...." Fraser closed his eyes. "Why?" 
    
    /Because of the Yank./ 
    
    "Dad?" 
     
    He turned towards the voice he'd missed so sorely.  And there, at the
    end of the hall, stood Robert Fraser, the rifle still in his hands. 
        
    *** 
    
    Stella clutched Caine's hands, tighter. She could feel Irene inside her,
    in her mind, in her heart. Alive. She smiled. For the first time in a
    long time, she felt truly happy.  It would take some adjusting, but...it
    was not unpleasant.  
    
    /Stella?/ 
    
    "Irene..." 
        
    *** 
    
    Dief barked, shoving open the door to Ray's room quickly. He bounded
    onto the bed, clutching and sniffing at Ray's limp form. He was limp,
    completely unresponsive, and looked completely exhausted. His breathing
    was still shallow and labored. Dief patted at his face with tiny hands.
    He wanted his other human to wake up. Now.  He growled, tugging on Ray's
    sleeve, frustrated by the lack of reaction and attention.  
    
    He jumped down, sniffed the air, then set off at a run. 
    
    *** 
    
    "Dad...you're here!" 
    
    /Better check on the Yank, son./ 
           
    "Ray?  Oh, my god, he's not...oh, god!" 
     
    *** 
    
    Ray could feel hands on him, pulling tubes out of his nose, tilting his
    head back. He felt something slip down his throat and gagged. It hurt.
    He wanted so badly to open his eyes, to see his Mountie. He could feel
    Fraser near him. 
    
    The pressure in his chest was gone, so that either meant Irene was dead
    or she'd been saved somehow. He was sure it had something to do with
    Stella being here, but wasn't sure he wanted to know how.  Why else would
    she be here?  Where was Canada?  and Irene? 
    
    //Fraser...// 
    
    He could breathe again, but somehow it wasn't him doing it. A tube? God,
    he hated those things. He shuddered, feeling Fraser's hand grip his tightly,
    Dief's in his other. Thank God the wolf was all right. He didn't think
    he could stand it if he wasn't. 
    
    His son. Was Dief his son? Fraser said he might as well be, and Caine
    seemed to think so. It made him happy to think so.  Dief seemed to like
    him from the start, even though Ray had been intimidated by he sheer
    strength.  He was glad he'd gotten over that quickly. 
    
    He felt warmth around him. Blankets and Fraser. Everything was going
    to be fine. It had to be.  A warm hand upon his forehead and a soft voice
    in his ear.  
    
    "Try not to move, Ray.  You're being given oxygen.  When you're strong
    enough, we'll take the tube out.  But for now, just rest. It worked out.
    Everything worked out.  Irene is safe.  My father is back.  I'm right
    here and you're safe." 
    
    //I know.// 
        
    *** 
    
    "He should be in a hospital." Vecchio whispered, barely glancing up as
    Stella entered the room. "Fraser, are you listening to me? Benny?"  
    
    He felt Stella's hand on his shoulder and looked up. "Stella, I'm not
    in the..." Wait. Something in her eyes, in her manner. She was smiling.
    What... 
    
    "Irene?" 
     
    "I'm here, Ray." 
    
    He swallowed, not sure how to handle this situation.  "Are-are you...both...okay?
    I mean, Stell - I - uh..." 
    
    Stella answered, the pitch of her voice slightly different from the one
    Irene used.  "We're fine, Ray.  Stop babbling.  How is Ray?" 
    
    He looked to the bed where Mina and the Seeker were still attending to
    Kowalski.  "He's in pretty sorry shape.  That flash was the worst he's
    ever had according to Benny.  He probably flattened Lucia.  Hopefully
    he nailed Calhoun, too." 
    
    "Ray?" 
    
    "Yeah, Stell?" 
    
    "I'm sorry.  Sorry I did that to you.  To him.  I had no idea.  I'll
    never do that again to you.  I would...I won't...ever hurt you again.
    I swear." 
    
    He looked at her in surprise.  That was all Stella.  Then he smiled,
    knowing what such an apology cost someone as prideful as a vengance demon.
    "I thought that was what you did." 
    
    "Don't push your luck, mister." 
    
    *** 
    
    Turnbull sighed, exhausted.  Then his eyes fell on the clock on the night
    stand and a wave of pure panic shook him. 
    
    It was six-thiry-seven Tuesday morning. 
    
    The consulate opened in less than an hour. 
    
    "Constable!  We'll be late!" 
    
    Fraser jerked awake.  "Wha-?" 
    
    Turnbull went on panicking.  "We have to get to work!  I never finished
    dusting the bannisters!  And I didn't water Inspector Thatcher's spider
    plant!" 
    
    With a moan Fraser dropped back down onto the bed.  "I'm calling out
    sick, Turnbull." 
    
    "But-but-but-" 
    
    Vecchio put a hand on the young constable's shoulder.  "I'll drive, Turnbull.
    You'll get there on time." 
    
    "But the spider plant!" 
    
    Fraser's voice was near to cracking as his voice drifted up from the
    bed.  "Turnbull, I promise you, the spider plant will still be alive
    when you get there." 
    
    There was no reassuring him, though, and Vecchio smiled to Mina and Stella
    as he ushered the Slayer out of the room. 
    
    *** 
    
    Lilith sat in the darkness of her chambers, Calhoun lying at her feet.
    He was in pain still, barely able to move for the suffering and weakness
    he had experienced.  Kowalski must have had another flash.  It even bothered
    her a little.  She ignored Calhoun.  He was a worm, her slave.  She didn't
    care about him. 
    
    Their plan had not been as successful as she had hoped.  The recovery
    of one so dear and her loss had not had the effect she had anticipated.
    The wolf lived, Kowalski lived, Vecchio had smiled when her spies saw
    him drop off the other Slayer, Zuko was seen outside, and the Vengance
    Demon had entered and left Warfield's compound.  No, she had not been
    successful and that angered her no end. 
    
    Caine.  His hand was obvious in this.  Caine...she smiled at his memory.
    So handsome.  So frightened at what he had done, lost and alone with
    nowhere to go and no people save his children.  If only he knew the truth.
    Maybe he did.  She had been lonely as well, driven away from Adam's side
    and it was she who drove him to the anger that made him slay his own
    brother.  Poor Abel.  Weak little fool.  So easy to manipulate. 
    
    Her blue eyes narrowed. 
    
    /Caine.../ 
    
    *** 
    
    Scully had been asleep in the car for hours and it was now seven in the
    morning.  She woke with a start when the door opened and Mulder sat down
    in the driver's seat. 
    
    "Why did we bother making hotel reservations?" she rasped, her mind on
    nothing but the crick in her neck and coffee. 
    
    "Scully, we're on to something here." 
    
    "What, Mulder?" 
    
    "Kowalski.  He's a victim in all this." 
    
    "Got any proof of anything?  Evidence?  Documentation?  Photos?" 
    
    Silence. 
    
    "Coffee, Mulder.  Now." 
    
    *** 
    
    Caine entered the sick room silently, carrying a candle that would be
    less hurtful to his son's eyes should he awaken.  For a long time he
    studied the three figures on the bed: the werewolf, the Slayer, and his
    son.  Fraser lay on his side, one arm wrapped around Kowalski's waist
    and his face pressed against the detective's neck.  Even in sleep, he
    was protective of his lover.  The wolf-child was curled into a tight
    ball around Kowalski's right hand.  He roused at Caine's entry, but settled
    back down as the vampire stroked his head. 
    
    Raymond.  His childe.  He needed time.  Desperately needed time to recover.
    He was thin and wasted and weak and Caine felt a wave of pity for him.
    Too much had happened in too short a time and he had never been given
    a chance to catch up with events.  It would have been taxing even for
    an undead and he was a long way from that still.  Eloise had wondered
    if she might help, but Caine didn't think her powers of healing would
    have any effect in this case.  She could try, though, he thought.  She
    was all that was good.  Like Ray, becoming a ghoulite had done nothing
    to change what she was inside. 
    
    The old man sighed, setting the candle down as he sat in one of the chairs.
    Benton Fraser was not the only protective one here. 
    
    ***
    
    


End file.
